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“The most desirable Juvenile Books issued in the Nation . 11 


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HARPER’S STORY BOOKS. 


A Monthly Series of Narratives, Biographies, and Tales, for the Instruction and Entertain- 
ment of the Young. By Jacob Abbott. Embellished with numerous and beautiful En- 
gravings. 

Each Number of “ Harper’s Story Books” will contain 160 pages in small quarto form, very beautifully illustrated, 
and printed on superfine calendered paper. 

The Series may be obtained of Booksellers, Periodical Agents, and Postmasters, or from the Publishers, at Three 
Dollars a year, or Twenty-five Cents a Number, in Paper — or Forty Cents a Number in Cloth, Gilt. The postage 
upon “Harper’s Story Books,” which must be paid quarterly in advance, is Two Cents. Subscriptions may com- 
mence with any Number. The two Periodicals, “ Harper’s New Monthly Magazine” and “Harper’s Story Books,” 
will be supplied to Subscribers at Five Dollars a year. 

The Publishers will supply Specimen Numbers gratuitously to Agents and Postmasters, and will make liberal ar- 
rangements with them for circulating the work. They will also supply Clubs of Two persons at Five Dollars a year, 
or Five persons at Ten Dollars. Clergymen and Teachers supplied at Two Dollars a year. Numbers from the 
commencement can be supplied. Also the bound Volumes. 

Twelve Volumes of “Harper's Story Books.” each containing three Numbers, are now ready. The Volumes are 
published quarterly, simultaneously with the appearance of the Numbers for February, May, August, and November, 
handsomely bound in Muslin. Gilt, $1 00 each. 


Thirty-six Numbers are now ready, viz. : 

LITTLE PAUL ; or, How to be Patient in Sickness 
and Pain. 

VIOLA and Her Little Brother Arno. 

CONGO; or, Jasper’s Experience in Command. 

JASPER; or, The Spoiled Child Recovered. 

MINIGO; or, The Fairy of Cairnstone Abbey. 

JUDGE JUSTIN ; or, The Little Court of Morningdale. 

ORKNEY THE PEACEMAKER; or, the Various 
Ways of Settling Disputes. 

LAPSTONE ; or, The Sailor turned Shoemaker. 

CARL AND JOCKO; or. the Adventures of the Little 
Italian Boy and his Monkey. 

VERNON; or, Conversations about Old Times in En- 
gland. 

AUNT MARGARET; or, How John True kept his 

Resolutions. 

THE GREAT ELM ; or, Robin Green and Josiah Lane 
at School. 

DIALOGUES, for the Amusement and Instruction of 
Young Persons. 

THE ALCOVE ; containing some further Account of 
Timboo, Mark, and Fanny. 

THE GIBRALTAR GALLERY ; being an Account 
of various Things both Curious and Useful. 

THE THREE GOLD DOLLARS; or, an Account of 
the Adventures of Robin Green. 

RAMBLES AMONG THE ALPS. 

THE ENGINEER; or. How to Travel in the Woods. 

THE MUSEUM; or, Curiosities Explained. 

33LFRED ; or, the Blind Boy and his Pictures. 


JOHN TRUE ; or, the Christian Experience of an Hon- 
est Boy. 

THE STORY OF AMERICAN HISTORY, from the 
earliest Settlement of the Country to the Establishment 
of the Federal Constitution. 

THE STORY OF ENGLSIH HISTORY, from the 
earliest Periods to the American Revolution. 

THE STORY OF ANCIENT HISTORY, from the 
earliest Periods to the Fall of the Roman Empire. 

THE STUDIO ; or, Illustrations of the Theory and Prac- 
tice of Drawing, for Young Artists at Home. 

FRANKLIN, the Apprentice Boy. 

THE HARPER ESTABLISHMENT; or, How the 

Story Books are made. 

TIMBOO AND FANNY; or, the Art of Self-instruc- 
tion. 

TIMBOO AND JOLIBA; or, the Art of being Useful. 
VIRGINIA; or, a Little Light on a ver, ! 'ark Saying. 
EMMA; or, the Three Misfortunes of a Bene. 

PRANK ; or, the Philosophy of Tricks and Mischief 

THE LITTLE LOUVRE ; or. the Boys’ and Girls’ Pic- 
ture Gallery. 

THE STRAIT GATE ; or, the Rule of Exclusion from 
Heaven. 

WILLIE AND THE MORTGAGE: showing how 

much may be accomplished by a Boy. 

BRUNO; or, Lessons of Fidelity,. Patience, and Self-dp. 
nial, taught by a Dog. 








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THE HOUSE THAT PAUL LIVED IN. 






A SERIES OF NARRATIVES, DIALOGUES, BIOGRAPHIES, AND TALES, 
FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT 
OF THE YOUNG. 


BY 



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NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 


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Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-four, by 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 



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Entered, according to Act of Congress, 4 in the year one thousand eight hundred 

and fifty-seven, by 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 


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5 ADVERTISEMENT, 

£ 

The present Number completes the Series of “ Harper’s Stort Books.” The 
whole Series can henceforth be obtained complete in twelve volumes, bound in blue, 
each one containing three stories, at the price of Twelve Dollars, or in Thirty-six 
thin volumes, bound in red, each containing one story, at the price of Fourteen 
Dollars and Forty Cents. 

The following are the titles of the stories from the beginning : 



Vol. IV. 

Vol. VII. 

Vol. X. 

VOL. I. 

Harper Establish- 

The Engineer. 

Carl and Jocko. 

Bruno. 

ment. 

The Alps. 

Lapstone. 

Willie. 

Boyhood of Frank- 

The Three Gold Dol- 

Orkney the Peace 

The Strait Gate. 

lin. 

lars. 

maker. 


The Studio. 



Yol. II. 

Yol. V. 

Vol. VIII. 

Vol. XI. 

The Little Louvre. 

The Gibraltar Gal- 

Judge Justin. 

Prank. 

Ancient History. 

lery. 

Minigo. 

Emma. 

English History. 

The Alcove. 

Jasper. 


American HistoeyV 

Dialogues. 


Yol. III. 



Vol. XII. 

Virginia. 

Vol. VI. 

Vol. IX. 

Congo. 

Timboo and Joliba. 

John True. 

The Great Elm. 

Viola and Arno. 

Timboo and Fan nv. 

Elfred. 

Aunt Margaret. 

Little Paul. 


The Museum. 

Vernon. 



Some of the Story Books are written particularly for girls and some for boys, 
and the different volumes are adapted to various ages, so that the work forms a 
complete library of Story Books for all the children of the family and the Sunday 
School. 


There are in the whole series over one thousand beautiful engravings. 

















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CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. CAPTAIN BRONX 13 

II. THE WIGWAM 16 

III. HORSES AND CARRIAGES 22 

IV. THE BISHOP OP WINCHESTER 30 

V. SICKNESS 34 

VI. PAUL AND THE DOCTOR , 46 

VII. A CALL ON THE DOCTOR 57 

VIII. STORIES 62 

IX. PRIVATE CONVERSATION 71 

X. THE LOCOMOTIVE 80 

XI. THE MINISTER’S OPINION 85 

XII. THE BONFIRE 94 

XIII. THE LITTLE CANNON 103 

XIV. PROVING THE CANNON Ill 

XV. THE AUCTION 122 

XVI. VISIT TO NEW YORK 141 

XVII. CONCLUSION 149 





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ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGE 

the house that paul lived in Frontispiece. 

THE PICTURE OF THE CASTLE 20 

MR. ORMOND’S 22 

WINCHESTER 33 

THE PICTURE IN PAUL’S MIND 43 

MEDICINE NOT TAKEN 48 

THE DOCTOR’S PICTURE 70 

THE LOCOMOTIVE 84 

THE BONFIRE 101 

THE PICTURE OF THE CANNON 105 

THE WAY THEY PROVE THE BARRELS 116 

OUTSIDE OF THE PROVING-HOUSE 118 

TnE AUCTION PARTY 137 




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LITTLE PAUL. 


CHAPTER I. 

CAPTAIN BRONX. 

Paul’s father. The house where he lived. The steamei’. 

T ITTLE PAUL’S father was the captain of a steam-boat that 
plied between New York and a large town some miles np the 
Hudson Eiver. His name was Captain Bronx. The house that 
he lived in was a small and very pretty cottage on the bank of 
the river, about half a mile from the town where the steam-boat 
landed. 

There were very pretty gardens and grounds about the house 
where Paul lived, and at one end of the house there was a piazza 
looking out over the water. Here, when Paul was a very small 
child, his mother used to sit, toward the close of the day, holding 
him in her arms, and watching for her husband’s steamer coming 
up to the town. When the steamer came in sight, Paul’s mother 
used to wave her handkerchief to her husband, and he, on his part, 
used to answer the signal by waving his own handkerchief, stand- 
ing, while he did it, conspicuously on one of the paddle-boxes. 

There was a flight of steps going down the bank to the water. 
At the foot of the steps was a boat-landing, where Captain Bronx 
kept a pretty little boat for short excursions on the river. Half 


14 


CAPTAIN BRONX. 


How Paul’s father used to play with him on summer mornings. 


way down these steps there was a platform, with a good look-out 
from it. Sometimes Paul would stand on this platform when his 
father’s steam-boat was going by, and wave a little flag by way of 
salutation.* 

Captain Bronx was a large and rather stern-looking man, with 
a hard, weather-beaten face. He was, however, good and kind at 
heart. He loved his wife and little son very much, and they all 
lived a very happy life together. The captain was almost always 
gone away from home during the daytime. He was gone to New 
York in his steam-boat. He went away usually at eight o’clock 
in the morning, and he came home again at eight o’clock at night, 
so that he was usually away just about twelve hours. 

In the summer mornings he used to get up early, and play with 
Paul for an hour or two before breakfast about the house and 
grounds. Sometimes, too, he would play with him in the even- 
ing, after he came home from his trip. 

Very often, in the morning, it was not convenient to play much 
about the grounds, on account of the dew upon the grass. Some- 
times, however, there was no dew. This was generally the case 
when it had been windy during the night. There is seldom any 
dew in the morning when it has been windy. The reason of this 
is that the wind dries up the dew as fast as it falls, or, perhaps, 
dissipates it in tliQ air before it has time to fall. 

Captain Bronx was quite a rich man, though he lived in a small 
house. His wife wished to have a small house, because she did 
not like the expense and the trouble always occasioned by a large 
* For a view of the house, and of the stairs and landing, see Frontispiece. 


CAPTAIN BRONX. 


15 


Mrs. Bronx’s wishes in respect to her house. 

one. When Captain Bronx was preparing to build his house, he 
intended, at first, to make it a large and elegant mansion, but his 
wife begged him not to do that. 

“ If we have a large house,” said she, “ we must have a great 
deal of company and a great many servants, and I shall be all the 
time burdened with care. I shall be worried continually by the 
waste that the servants will make, or by their quarrels with each 
other. Then all the time there will be some one or other of them 
that will have to be changed, either because they don’t suit me, 
or because the work don’t suit them, and I shall be continually 
going to and fro among the intelligence-offices in New York to get 
new ones ; and all this will be only to keep up an establishment 
for the benefit of mere acquaintances that we care very little about, 
and who care very little about us, except to come and get what 
we can give them.” 

“ That’s all very true,” said Captain Bronx. “ And what shall 
we do about our house ?” 

“Let us build a small, neat, and pretty house like a cottage,” 
said Mrs. Bronx, “ with just rooms enough for our own every-day 
use, and one chamber for our friends. Then, for servants, I will 
have only one woman and one boy. By this plan, I shall lead 
a quiet and happy life with little Paul, and not have any more 
trouble and care than is absolutely necessary.” 

“ Very well,” said the captain ; “I think that will be the best 
plan, after all.” 

So Captain Bronx built a small but very pretty house, and ar- 
ranged it within in a manner to occasion his wife as little trouble 


16 


THE WIGWAM. 


The woods. Rose and Phelim. The wigwam. 

as possible in taking care of it ; and here Mrs. Bronx and little 
Paul lived together, while the captain was absent on his trips to 
New York, in a very happy manner. 

Behind the house was a piece of wild and romantic land, cover- 
ed with woods, where Paul used often to play. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WIGWAM. 

The woman and the boy that Mrs. Bronx employed in her 
housekeeping were colored people. The woman’s name was Bose. 
The boy, who was her son, was called Phelim. Phelim was about 
fourteen years old, and, though he was not very bright, he was yet 
a good boy, and he was very faithful in taking good care of Paul. 

One morning in September, when it had been windy during the 
night, so that there was no dew, Captain Bronx took Paul out into 
a grove behind the house, and began to build him what he called 
a wigwam. This wigwam was a small hut made of branches of 
evergreen trees laid upon a frame of poles. It was quite small, 
being just large enough for little Paul to go into it. 

While the captain was building the wigwam, Paul undertook to 
help him by carrying the branches and laying them upon the frame 
as fast as his father cut them off from the trees in the wood. But 
he did not lay them on right. He laid them on with the tops 
upward, in the position in which they grew on the original trees, 
whereas he ought to have laid them with the tops downward. 


THE WIGWAM. 


17 


Mode of laying the roof. Conversation abqut the wigwam. 

The reason why he ought to have laid them with the tops down- 
ward is because in that position they shed the rain better. If the 
branches of the trees are placed in such a manner that all the lit- 
tle leaves that grow upon them have their points turned outward 
and downward toward the ground, then they conduct the water of 
the rain away, and thus the interior of the Tut is kept dry. But 
if, on the other hand, they are placed so that the tips of the leaves 
point upward, then the leaves catch the rain and conduct it in to- 
ward the stems, and from the stems it falls down into the interior 
of the wigwam. 

The captain explained all this to Paul, and after that Paul 
placed the branches with the tops downward. 

“What a pretty green house!” said Paul, when the wigwam 
was finished. “ Will it always keep green?” 

“No,” said his father ; “ after a while the branches of the trees 
will all turn red and brown.” 

“Would not they keep green if I were to water them?” said 
Paul. 

“ No, not long,” replied his father. 

“ Because I could water my wigwam just as well as not,” add- 
ed Paul. “I could water it every morning — that is, if Phelim 
could help me.” 

“ He would help you, I have no doubt,” said the captain, “ but 
it would not do any good. The leaves of trees will not keep green 
long unless they are growing.” 

“ Then, father, could not you make a wigwam of growing trees?” 

“No,” said his father, “ we could not train trees to grow the 

36 B 


18 


THE WIGWAM. 


Advantages and pleasures of constant employment 

right way. Trees almost always grow with their leaves pointing 
upward. Whereas, to make a roof that will shed the rain, we 
have to place them with their leaves pointing downward.” 

“But, father,” said Paul, “we might bend the branches while 
they are growing, and make them grow downward.” 

“We might bend the branches,” said his father, “ and possibly 
make them grow in a bent direction ; but the leaves and all the 
little sprigs Would immediately begin to turn and grow upward, 
and that would spoil the roof.” 

“ Then, father,” said Paul, “ I should think it would be better 
if trees had been made to grow in such a way as to point their 
leaves downward, and then the woods would be full of little roofs, 
and men could live under them instead of having to work so hard 
to build houses.” 

“ No,” said the captain, “it is the building of the house rather 
than the living in it after it is finished that gives men most pleas- 
ure. People are always happier when they have something to 
do. You will find that the chief pleasure that you will take in 
this wigwam will be in helping me build it. After it is finished, 
so that there is nothing more to do about it, you won’t care for it 
long.” 

“ Oh yes, I shall care for it a great while, I am sure,” said 
Paul. “I shall care about it all the time — at least, as long as it 
is green.” 

“ It will not be green very long,” said the captain. “ A wig- 
wam is not a very permanent structure.” 

What do you mean by a permanent structure ?” asked Paul. 


THE WIGWAM. 


19 


Definition of words. Future use to be made of the wigwam. 

“ Why, structure means any thing that is built,” said the cap- 
tain, “ and permanent means lasting a great while, so that a 
permanent structure means a building that lasts a great while.” 

“ I should like to see a permanent structure,” said Paul. 

“A castle is a permanent structure,” said the captain. “When 
you go into the house I will show you the picture of one.” 

“ Let us go in now,” said Paul. 

Just then Paul heard the bell ring at the house. It was the 
first bell for breakfast. So the captain, after putting upon the 
wigwam all the branches which he had cut from the trees, took 
Paul by the hand and led him toward the house. 

On the way, Paul said that he thought he should like his wig- 
wam even after the leaves had all turned brown. 

“It looks prettier to be green, I know,” said he, “but still I 
shall like it when it is brown.” 

“ But the little leaves will all get so dry that they will drop 
off very easily,” said the captain. “At the least touch of the 
branches the leaves will come showering down all over you.” 

“That I shall not like,” said Paul. 

“ But there is one excellent use that you can put your wigwam 
to when it gets brown and dry,” said the captain. 

“What use, father?” asked Paul. 

“You can make a bonfire of it,” said his father. “It will 
make an excellent bonfire, especially if we burn it in the night.” 

“ I shall like the bonfire very much indeed,” said Paul. 

“ So shall I,” said his father. 

When they went into the house, the captain took a book down 






THE WIGWAM. 


21 




Picture of the castle explained. The narrow windows. 


from the book-case, and showed Paul a picture of a castle in it. 
It was a large castle built upon a rock. There were round tow- 
ers at the corners, and a large square tower, with a flag flying 
from it, in the middle. 

“A castle is a very permanent structure,” said the captain, 
“ for it is built of stone, and it is usually founded upon a rock. 
Some castles last more than a thousand years, but your wigwam 
will only last a few weeks.” 

“ What do people build castles for ?” asked Paul. 

“ They don’t build them at all, scarcely, nowadays,” said the 
captain. “ When they used to build them ages ago, it was to de- 
fend themselves against their enemies in them. When their en- 
emies were coming they would shut themselves up in their castles, 
and their enemies could not get in. They had narrow window’s 
made in the walls, so that they could look out and watch their en- 
emies, and shoot arrows out at them.” 

“ Yes, or guns,” said Paul. 

“ No,” said his father, “ they had no guns in those days. They 
only had bows and arrows, and other such weapons as those.” 

“ I see the narrow windows in one of the round towers in the 
picture,” said Paul. 

“ Yes,” said the captain ; “ there are some larger windows in 
the square tower, but they are so high, and so far back from the 
outer wall, that the enemy can not get up to them to get in, nor 
even shoot arrows in at them.” 

By this time breakfast was ready, and so the captain put the 
book away, and he and Paul took their seats at the table. 


22 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


Paul’s love of instruction. A house down the river. Picture of it. 


Paul, though young, was a very sedate and thoughtful boy, and 
he liked very much to hold such conversations as this with his 
father. Indeed, he liked to listen to instruction better than to 
play, and, whenever his father commenced any thing of the na- 
ture of play for the purpose of amusing his little son, it almost 
always ended in some sort of instructive conversation, as it had 
done in this case of the building of the wigwam. 


CHAPTEE III. 

HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 

About a mile down the river from the place where Captain 
Bronx lived, there was a very pretty house, with piazzas around 
it, where Paul used sometimes to go and make a visit. There 




HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


23 


Phelim brings Paul a letter. 

were two children who lived at this house. Their names were 
Charles and Lucy Ormond. 

One day when Paul was sitting under the piazza in his own 
home, he saw Phelim coming along the path, bringing in his hand 
what seemed to be a letter. 

“Phelim,” said Paul, “ what have you got?” 

“ I have got a letter,” said Phelim. 

“ Who is it for?” asked Paul. 

“I don’t know,” said Phelim. “I can’t read what is on the 
outside of it, but I believe it is for you.” 

“ Why don’t you learn to read, Phelim ?” said Paul. “It would 
be very useful for you to learn to read.” 

“Yes, Master Paul,” said Phelim, “I know it would, but I 
don’t think I could ever learn. The letters are all mixed up to- 
gether so in the reading that I never could make them out.” 

“You could learn, Phelim,” said Paul. 

“ No, Master Paul,” said Phelim, “ I don’t believe that I could 
ever learn. I tried once in a school. I could learn some of the 
letters when they stood by themselves, but I could not learn how 
to pronounce them when they were together.” 

Paul took the letter from Phelim’s hand and looked at the back 
of it. He found his own name inscribed there in printed charac- 
ters of a form indicating that the letter was the work of a child 
who had not yet learned to write current hand. 

“I think it is from Charles Ormond,” said Paul. 

“I think so too,” said Phelim. 

Paul opened the letter, and read as follows : 


24 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


The invitation. 


Mra. Ormond’s plan in giving parties to children. 


Thursday morning. 

Master Charles and Miss Lucy Ormond request the pleasure of 
Master Paul Bronx’s company at an evening party to-morrow at 
two o’clock. 

The reader may perhaps consider two o’clock as rather an early 
hour for an evening party, but it seemed nothing unusual to Paul, 
for he was accustomed to be invited to what were called evening 
parties at that hour. The truth is, that when her children had a 
party, Mrs. Ormond thought it much better that the assembly 
should take place in the middle of the day rather than in the even- 
ing; but then, in order that it might seem like evening to the 
party, she was accustomed to close the shutters of the room where 
the children played, and to light the lamps. She was also accus- 
tomed to set the clock forward to eight or nine o’clock when the 
party began. Thus the children enjoyed the illusion of going to 
a party at eight or nine, and staying till eleven, with the advantage 
of good, bright daylight to go home with after the party was over. 

Paul carried his letter of invitation to his mother, and she at 
once consented to his accepting it. 

“And I’ll go with you,” said his mother. 

“ Good !” said Paul, clapping his hands ; “ and let us go there 
in a chaise, mother.” 

“ Is it too far for us to walk, do you think?” asked his mother. 

“ Yes, mother,” said Paul, “ I think it is too far for us to walk. 
It tires me very much to walk so far. But I will try, if you think 
it is best.” 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


25 


Conversation between Paul and his mother about going to the party. 


Mrs. Bronx had observed that for some time past it had appear- 
ed to fatigue Paul to walk. He seemed to get out of breath very 
easily, and to be disposed to stop very often when he was at play, 
in order to sit down and rest. Having noticed these indications, 
Mrs. Bronx was afraid that they might denote some incipient sick- 
ness, and she resolved to make inquiries of the doctor on the sub- 
ject the first opportunity. 

She had not, however, yet done so ; but, now that Paul seemed 
to think he could not well walk so far as to Mrs. Ormond’s, the 
possibility that he might have some secret sickness coming upon 
him recurred to her mind, and she felt quite concerned. She did 
not express her uneasiness to Paul, but only said at once that they 
would go to Mrs. Ormond’s in a chaise, if Paul liked that way 
better. She was the more ready to do as Paul wished, because 
he did not insist upon it, but made known his wish in a gentle* 
and considerate manner. Indeed, he said expressly that if his 
mother thought it best to walk he was willing to try. 

Accordingly, the next day, about one o’clock, Mrs. Bronx sent 
Phelim after a chaise. Phelim went for a chaise to a livery-stable 
in the town, where a great many different horses and carriages 
were kept. This was the way in which Mrs. Bronx always ob- 
tained horses and carriages when she wished to take a ride. 

At the time when the house was first built, Captain Bronx pro- 
posed to build a stable and to keep one or two horses in it, but 
Mrs. Bronx asked him not to do it. 

“ But it will be so much more convenient for you,” said he, “ to 
have horses always at your command.” 


26 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


Reasons why Mrs. Bronx preferred not to keep carriages and horses. 

“No,” said she, “I think it will be much more convenient for 
me to send to the public stable for them ; for, if we have horses 
of our own, it will make me a great deal of trouble to take care of 
them.” 

“ Oh no,” said the captain, “ you will not have to take care of 
them at all. I should hire a coachman to take care of them.” 

“Then I should have the coachman to take care of,” said Mrs. 
Bronx, “ and that would make me more trouble than the care of 
the horses. Besides,” she continued, “ we want different kinds 
of horses and different kinds of carriages for different occasions ; 
and, unless we keep a great many, we shall not be nearly as well 
accommodated as we shall be to go to the livery-stable.” 

“But then it may sometimes happen,” said the captain, “that 
you w T ill wish to take a ride, and you will send to the stable, and 
all the horses and carriages will be out.” 

“ True,” said Mrs. Bronx ; “ but then, on the other hand, if we 
keep horses of our own, sometimes they will be sick, or they will 
want shoeing, or the harness will be broken, or something will be 
the matter with the coachman ; so that I think I should be dis- 
appointed of my ride much more frequently by depending upon 
my own horses than by depending upon a good livery-stable.” 

“ Very well,” said Captain Bronx ; “I believe you are right.” 

So the captain made an arrangement with the keeper of the liv- 
ery-stable, at so much a year, to send a horse and chaise every 
morning to his house to take him to the steam-boat, and also one 
in the evening to the pier, when the boat arrived, to take him 
home. He was also to furnish for the use of Mrs. Bronx any car- 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


27 


Working of the plan. 


Phelim comes with a horse and chaise. 


riages and horses that she might want from time to time, and Cap- 
tain Bronx was to pay him the hill once a quarter. After trying 
this plan for some time, they found that, without any care or 
trouble, they were much better provided for, and at much less ex- 
pense, all things considered, than if they had kept hordes and car- 
riages of their own. 

In order to make sure of a chaise on the day of the party at 
Mrs. Ormond’s, Phelim was sent to engage one the evening before. 
This was, however, scarcely necessary, for the keeper of the livery- 
stable found Mrs. Bronx such an excellent customer that he was 
extremely unwilling that she should ever be disappointed ; and 
so, whenever all his own horses were engaged at the time that 
Mrs. Bronx sent for 'one, he would never send back a refusal, but 
would always procure for her such a horse and carriage as she de- 
sired from some other stable in the town. 

At half past one on the appointed day the horse was at the 
door. Phelim stood at his head to hold him, while Paul and his 
mother got into the chaise. The plan which they had formed was 
to ride to Mrs. Ormond’s in the chaise, but to walk home. Paul 
thought that he should be able to walk one way. Phelim was to 
go and take the chaise back. There was not room for him to go 
with Paul and his mother in the chaise, and so he was going to 
walk. 

“ When we arrive at the house,” said Mrs. Bronx to Phelim, 
“ we will fasten the horse to the post before the door, and then 
when you get there you can take him and drive him home.” 

So Paul took the reins and drove on. In due time, he and his 


28 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


Paul feels somewhat uncertain about being able to walk home. He reasons the case. 

mother arrived safely at Mrs. Ormond’s house, and in the picture 
at the beginning of this chapter you see the chaise at the door. 

Paul did not feel quite easy in leaving the carriage at the door 
to be taken away by Phelim, for he was, after all, rather reluctant 
to undertake the task of walking home ; and yet he did not like 
to tell his mother how weak he felt. He thought it would trouble 
her to have him tell her ; and, besides, he did not know but that 
she might consider it unnecessary complaining on his part, or per- 
haps an indication of indolence. 

So he attempted to persuade his mother to keep the chaise on 
her own account. 

“Mother,” said he, as they were ascending the steps to enter 
the house, “ would not it be better for you to keep the chaise and 
to ride home ? I am afraid it will be too far for you to walk.” 

“Oh no,” said his mother; “I can walk just as well as not. 
I shall like to walk, having you for company.” 

“It might possibly rain,” suggested Paul. 

“ Oh no ; it does not look at all like rain,” said Mrs. Bronx. 
“The sky is perfectly clear.” 

“ But sometimes there comes up a sudden thunder-shower to- 
ward evening,” said Paul, “ and what should we do in that case ?” 

“I think there is so little danger,” replied his mother, “that 
we will venture it.” 

So saying, Mrs. Bronx led the way into the house. 

It would have been better if Paul had stated frankly and plain- 
ly his real reason for wishing to have the chaise retained. If he 
had simply told his mother that he was not perfectly well, and 


HORSES AND CARRIAGES. 


29 


Phelim comes for the horse and chaise. 


The party. 


that lie did not feel that he had strength enough to walk so far, 
she would have decided at once to keep the chaise. 

Paul’s motive was very good, however, for wishing to conceal 
from his mother that he was not well, and in the argument which 
he used he did not say any thing that was not strictly true ; so 
that, after all, he was not much to blame. 

He and his mother went into the house, and in about half an 
hour Phelim came. After unfastening the horse, Phelim got into 
the chaise and drove back to the stable where the horse belonged. 

When they went into the house, Mrs. Bronx went up stairs to 
find Mrs. Ormond in her room, while Paul was directed to go 
through a hall out into a little green yard behind the house, where 
the children that had been invited were assembling. When all 
the children had come they were summoned into the house, and 
were conducted through a small and narrow side entry into a 
room where the shutters were closed and the lamps were lighted. 
The clock on the mantel-piece was set at a quarter past eight. 
The children began to run about the room to get good places on 
the sofas and chairs, and, forgetting all about the daylight out of 
doors, imagined that they were beginning a fashionable party late 
in the evening. 


30 


THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 


The children at play. How they played the Bishop of Winchester. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 

One of the games which the children played at the party at 
Mrs. Ormond’s was called The Bishop of Winchester. The way 
in which the game was played was this : 

One of the children — the one who was appointed first to play 
Bishop — would go out. In the entry he would put on a paper 
cap, made as nearly as possible in the shape of a mitre — a kind 
of cap worn by a bishop. The older children would make this 
cap out of a large sheet of paper, which they would pin together in 
the proper form. The bishop would also put a ring upon his fin- 
ger, and take a cane in his hand, and then, thus appareled, would 
come into the room, preceded by another of the children who was 
to act as herald. As the herald and the bishop advanced into the 
room, the herald would call out in a pompous tone, 

“Bow down your heads and cover your eyes 
Till the Bishop of Winchester’s seated.” 

The children would all immediately bow down their heads and 
cover their eyes with their hands, so that they could not see, and 
then the bishop would take the ring off his finger, and walking to 
and fro about the room, would hide it somewhere, the children all 
the time keeping their heads down and their eyes covered so as 
not to see. 

When the ring was hid, the bishop would take his seat upon a 


THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 


31 


Farther account of the play. Question about the origin of the name. 

chair in the middle of the room, which had been previously placed 
there for that purpose. The herald would then call out, 

“ Lift up your heads and open your eyes, 

The Bishop of Winchester’s seated.” 

Thereupon the children would all lift up their heads and open 
their eyes, and the herald then, pointing to one of the children, 
the first in the row, would say, 

“The Bishop of Winchester’s lost his ring 
Where do you think he has put it?” 

The child addressed would then guess where the ring was hid, 
and then the herald would say, 

“Go and see.” 

So the one who had guessed would go and look in the place 
that he fiad designated, and if he found the ring there he was to 
be the Bishop of Winchester next. If he did not find it — and he 
was strictly forbidden to look in any place except the one that he 
had specially named — then the next one in the row was called 
upon, and so on until the ring was found. 

Every time that the Bishop of Winchester was changed, the one 
who had been bishop became herald. 

Thus, after playing for some time, almost all the children would 
be brought forward to take an active part in the performance, both 
as bishop and herald. They were pleased with this rotation, for 
they all liked to have something special to do in the play. 

This is a very good play for young children. I do not know, 
however, why it is called the Bishop of Winchester. It is true 
that Winchester is one of the most famous bishoprics in England. 


32 


THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 


Account of Winchester. 


Paul’s management in the play. 


The town contains a very ancient and venerable cathedral, in 
which the bishop presides. It is true also that bishops, especially 
in Catholic countries, wear a peculiar kind of seal ring, called 
the bishop’s ring, which is in some sense the badge of their office. 
I never heard, however, that the Bishop of Winchester was par- 
ticularly prone to lose his ring, still less that he was accustomed 
to call upon every body all around him to help him find it. 

However this may be, the children liked very much to play this 
game, and they amused themselves that afternoon with playing it 
a long time. Little Paul was interested in watching the game ; 
but when it came to his turn to guess where the ring was hidden, 
he did not, as was the case with the other children, wish to guess 
right, in order to be the Bishop of Winchester himself the next 
time, but preferred to guess wrong. The reason was that he did 
not wish to leave his seat. He felt a strange sort of beating 
about his heart which made him unwilling to move ; so he wish- 
ed to sit still and see the play, but not to take much active part 
in it. 

Accordingly, when it came to his turn to guess, he would name 
some place very near where he was sitting, so that he could ex- 
amine it without going far from his seat, and he took care, more- 
over, to name a place where the ring was not likely to be found. 

After this play the children played various other games ; and 
at length, when it was about half past ten by the clock upon the 
mantel-piece, the refreshments came in. The entertainment con- 
sisted of cakes of various kinds, lemonade, baked apples and cream, 
and other such delicacies. When all the guests had been amply 


WINCHESTER. 



00 






34 


SICKNESS. 


The party breaks up. Paul and his mother set out for home. 

supplied with these delicacies, and had eaten all that they desired, 
Mrs. Ormond came into the room to hid them good-by, and this 
was the signal for the party to break up. 


CHAPTER V. 

SICKNESS. 

The sun was shining brightly and beautifully in the western 
sky when Mrs. Bronx and Paul passed out through the front gate 
of Mrs. Ormond’s house, and set out on their return home. Paul 
felt a great deal of doubt and misgiving in respect to the question 
whether he should be able to walk home ; but, not being willing 
to make any unnecessary trouble, he did not say any thing to his 
mother, but resolved to try. 

So they walked along together 

After they had gone on a little way they came to a place where 
the road passed round a rocky point of land that projected out 
over the river in such a way as to afford a very fine view up and 
down the stream. 

“Ah! mother,” said Paul, “let us stop here and rest a few 
minutes, and look at the boats and vessels on the river.” 

There was a wooden bench near some rocks on the side of the 
road toward the water, where persons could sit down and enjoy 
the view. 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Bronx, “we will sit down a few min- 
utes, if you wish, but we must not stop very long. If we do, fa- 
ther will get home before us.” 


SICKNESS. 


35 


Paul gets tired very soon. They stop to rest. The steam-boat. 

“Ah! but we can watch for him/’ said Paul. “We can see 
the steam-boat when it first comes into view away down the 
stream, and then we shall have plenty of time to get home before 
he does.” 

“ Do you think so ?” asked Mrs. Bronx. 

“ Why yes, mother,” replied Paul. “You see, he will have to 
go past our house up to the town, and then come back again in 
the carriage.” 

Mrs. Bronx noticed that Paul, in saying this, spoke in a some- 
what interrupted manner, as if it hurt him to speak, or as if there 
was some difficulty about his breathing. It made her somewhat 
anxious to observe this, but she did not speak of the subject to 
Paul. Paul himself, on the other hand, felt that he was unwell, 
but he did not say any thing about it to his mother, not wishing 
to alarm her or to give her any trouble. He thought that by 
stopping frequently to rest he should be able to get home, and 
then he thought he would tell his mother that he felt sick, and 
ask her to let him go to bed. 

“Would you rather wait here until the steam-boat comes in 
sight ?” asked Mrs. Bronx. 

“ Why — yes — mother,” replied Paul. “ At least I should like 
to stay here a few minutes longer — till I get my breath a little.” 

“ Did you get out of breath ?” asked his mother. 

“A little,” said Paul. “ I don’t know what the reason is. But 
now I am ready to go on.” 

So saying, Paul rose, and, giving his hand to his mother, he 
walked on again. He had not gone far, however, before he found 


36 


SICKNESS. 


Paul feels sick. 


Ilis symptoms. His mother attempts to carry him. 


that his strength was failing. He was oppressed by a strange 
sensation of beating about the heart, and a difficulty of breath- 
ing. 

“ Mother,” said he, in a faint voice, “ I don’t think I can go any 
farther ; and I don’t know what I shall do, for I am a great deal 
too heavy for you to carry me.” 

“ Why, my poor little Paul,” said his mother, stooping down to 
him as if to take him in her arms, and looking earnestly into his 
face, “ you are sick.” 

“ Oh no, mother,” said Paul, “I am not sick. Only I think 
there is something or other going wrong here,” putting his hand 
to his breast, “ and it seems to take away my strength.” 

“ I’ll carry you,” said Mrs. Bronx. “I am strong enough. 
You are not very heavy.” 

So Mrs. Bronx took Paul up in her arms and attempted to car- 
ry him. He laid his head down upon her shoulder and shut his 
eyes, breathing all the time in a short and irregular manner. 

Presently he opened his eyes and said, 

“ Mother, I am certainly too heavy for you. I think you had 
better put me down by the side of the road, and let me stay there 
while you. go home and tell Phelim, and he will go and get a 
chaise and come for me.” 

“Oh no,” replied his mother; “I would not leave you here 
alone for the world. I can carry you.” 

But it was yet three quarters of a mile from the house, and 
Mrs. Bronx, though she still went on carrying Paul, began to be 
afraid that her strength would fail long before she could get him 


SICKNESS. 


37 


They stop again to rest. The William Henry coming. 


Conversation. 


home. Indeed, after going a few rods farther, she found that her 
arms were fast losing their power to hold up the burden, and she 
was compelled to stop. 

She went to the side of the road, at a place where she saw a 
log lying on the ground, and, putting Paul down gently upon it, 
sat down beside him. 

“We will stay here a minute or two to rest,” said she, “and 
consider what to do.” 

Paul laid his head down in his mother’s lap and seemed to be 
entirely exhausted. Mrs. Bronx began to be very much alarmed. 
She saw that Paul was seriously sick and wholly unable to walk 
home, while, on the other hand, she felt unable to carry him. She 
sighed deeply, and said to herself, 

“ Dear me ! what shall I do ?” 

Just then Paul raised his head again. He made an effort to do 
so, in order not to appear very sick, and thus distress his mother. 
As he looked up he found that, from the place where he sat, he had 
a glimpse through the trees far down the river. He looked atten- 
tively in that direction, and presently thought that he saw the 
smoke of a steam-boat coming. 

“ Mother,” said he, “ I believe I see the William Henry.” 

The name of his father’s steamer was the William Henry. 

“Do you?” asked his mother. 

“ Yes, mother,” said Paul. “ And now, if we could only get a 
little nearer to the bank of the river, we might make a signal to 
father when the William Henry goes by.” 

“ But that would not do us any good,” said his mother. 


38 


SICKNESS. 


Mrs. Bronx resolves to wait till some person comes by. 


“Why? don’t you think that father would be willing to stop 
for us ?” said Paul. 

“But we could not get on board,” said Mrs. Bronx, “if he 
should stop.” 

“ Could not father send a boat for us to the shore ?” asked 
Paul. 

“I don’t know that he could stop for that,” said Mrs. Bronx. 
“Besides, he would not know who we were. He could not see 
us — to distinguish us — so far off.” 

“ Ah me !” said Paul, with a sigh, that was drawn forth by the 
distress and pain that he was suffering. He then laid down his 
head again in his mother’s lap, and shut his eyes as before. 

Mrs. Bronx now resolved to remain where she was until some 
person should come by. 

“ Whoever they may be,” she said to herself, “lam sure they 
will be willing to go and call Phelim for me, when they see how 
sick poor little Paul is.” 

So Mrs. Bronx remained where she was, and, in order to while 
away the time, she began to talk with Paul, and try to amuse him. 
Indeed, after resting a little while, Paul seemed to be better. The 
pain and distress which he had suffered at first passed away in a 
great measure, and he became quite interested in listening to what 
his mother said to him. 

“ Can you see the William Henry now ?” she asked. 

“I can see a steamer coming, and I think it is the William 
Henry,” said Paul. 

“ I rather think it is too,” said Mrs. Bronx. “ It is about time 


SICKNESS. 


39 


Paul’s plans of life. 


Wagon coming. 


The people in it. 


for her to come. If it is, she will soon be up, and when we get 
home we shall find father there all ready to receive us.” 

“ I wish I was old enough to be the captain of a steam-boat, 
mother,” said Paul. 

“ Is that what you are going to be when you become a man?” 
asked his mother. 

“Yes, mother,” said Paul. “ Only I am going to have a sea- 
going steamer, and not a river steamer.” 

Just at this moment Mrs. Bronx heard the sound of wheels. 
She looked up, and saw a wagon coming along the road. She 
saw that it was coming in the direction from her house, and she 
was sorry for this, for she was afraid that the people that were in 
it might perhaps not be willing to turn about and go back to con- 
vey her message to Phelim. 

“I am going to speak to those people when they come near,” 
said she to Paul, “ and ask them to go back and tell Phelim to 
come for us.” 

“ So I would, mother,” said Paul. “ I am sure that they will 
be willing to go.” 

The vehicle, as it came near, proved to be a wagon with two 
aged people in it. The people were a farmer and his wife, who 
were returning from market. Their wagon was heavily laden 
with the supplies which they had purchased in the town, and they 
were themselves so packed in among bags and baskets as to make 
it appear that it would be somewhat difficult for them to get out. 

When Mrs. Bronx explained to them the situation that she was 
in, and asked them if they would be willing to go back three quar- 


40 


SICKNESS. 


The farmer’s wife is not willing to go back. Her reasons. 

ters of a mile to her house, in order to send a domestic to her as- 
sistance, at first they seemed somewhat at a loss what to reply ; 
but at length, after consulting together for a few minutes in an 
under tone, the woman said, 

“I don’t think we can go very well. We have got several 
miles to go ourselves to-night before we get home, and if we go 
back we should not get home until after dark.” 

“Very well,” said Paul; “it is no matter.” 

Paul said this in so sweet and pleasant a voice — lifting up his 
head from his mother’s lap to say it — that it quite touched the 
heart of the old woman, and she was half disposed to change her 
mind and go back. After pausing, however, a moment longer, 
she said, 

“We should go back if it was not so late, and if wfe were not 
too old to be riding about among the hills after dark. Besides, 
somebody else will come along very soon, and they will go for 
you, I’m sure.” 

Paul laid his head down again into his mother’s lap, and said 
no more. 

The wagon drove slowly on. 

“Never mind, mother,” said Paul, when it had gone, “some- 
body else will come along pretty soon. Besides, I feel better 
now.” 

“I am very glad that you feel better,” said his mother. 

“ And, while we are waiting, I should like to have you go on 
talking to me,” said Paul. 

“I will,” said his mother. “But first tell me why you will 


SICKNESS. 


41 


Paul and his mother engage in conversation. 


The people in the wagon wait. 


prefer a sea-going steamer to a river steamer to command when 
you are a man.” 

“Oh, because then I can go sailing all about the world,” said 
Paul ; “ but in a river steamer I can only go up and down all the 
time in the same place.” 

“ But then consider how pretty the scenery looks on the banks 
of a river,” said Mrs. Bronx. “When you are sitting on the deck 
of your steamer, or standing on the paddle-box, you can watch 
the shores as they glide along, and see the farms, and the farm- 
houses, and the sheep, and the cattle, and the woods, and the car- 
riages, and a thousand other things ; whereas, when you are out 
at sea, you can not see any thing at all.” 

Oh yes, mother,” said Paul, “ we can see whales, and icebergs, 
and water-spouts, and ever so many other wonderful things. We 
might sometimes find a wreck and save the men.” 

“That is very true,” said his mother. “But see! the wagon 
has stopped again.” 

The wagon, after going on a short distance, had turned out of 
the road a little way, and was now still. The woman was look- 
ing round as if she were going to speak. 

“We are not going away to leave you,” said the woman, call- 
ing out to Mrs. Bronx. “We are going to wait here until some- 
body else comes along the road, and, if they will not go for you, 
then we will.” 

“I am very much obliged to you indeed,” said Mrs. Bronx. 

Mrs. Bronx now felt much relieved, and she went on talking, to 
amuse Paul, with a much lighter heart than before. 


42 


SICKNESS. 


Talk about steamers and engines. 


Another carriage is coming. 


“ I think it will be an excellent plan for you to have a sea-go- 
ing steamer when you are a man,” said she, “for then you can 
cross the ocean and see foreign lands, as you say. But shall you 
not be afraid of the storms ?” 

“ Oh no, mother,” said Paul. “ I shall have good strong en- 
gines ; and then, no matter how heavy it blows and how high the 
sea runs, I shall go right straight through it. I shall not be 
afraid of the rocks or the breakers. Sometimes I shall be sailing 
near some great rock, and the wind blowing directly upon it ; but 
my engines will work on strong and steady, and I shall go right 
by, straight and handsomely. I mean to have oscillating engines 
in my ship.” 

Paul had seen at one time a set of engines on board a North 
River steamer, built with what are called oscillating cylinders, 
which swing in a peculiar manner this way and that at every 
stroke of the piston, and he was very much pleased with the beauty 
of the motion. 

“Hark!” said Mrs. Bronx, “I hear somebody coming.” 

Paul lifted up his head from his mother’s lap and began to lis- 
ten. He heard the sound of wheels. 

Very soon he saw horses’ heads coming into view at a turn of 
the road before him, and immediately afterward a handsome car- 
riage appeared. Mrs. Bronx looked at the carriage attentively, 
but she did not recognize it as one that she had ever seen before. 

It was a very elegant carriage, and it evidently belonged to 
wealthy and fashionable people. 

“Mother,” said Paul, “I would not ask those people to go 


SICKNESS 


43 




Paul’s idea of his future voyages. 



44 


SICKNESS. 


Elegant carriage. The ladies, though rich and fashionable, are yet kind. 

back for us. I don’t believe they would go if we were to ask 
them.” 

The carriage was open, and there were two elegantly-dressed 
ladies on the back seat. They looked earnestly at Mrs. Bronx 
and Paul as the carriage drew near, and at the same instant one 
of the ladies, the eldest of the two, pulled a certain string by her 
side, which was the signal to the coachman to drive slowly. 

“Is any thing the matter?” said the lady to Mrs. Bronx, as 
soon as she was near enough to speak. 

“My little boy is taken sick,” replied Mrs. Bronx, “and I 
don’t know how we shall get home.” 

“ Stop, Patrick,” said the lady, “ and open the door for me to 
get out.” ^ 

So Patrick, the coachman, reined up his horses, and then open- 
ed the carriage door. The ladies both got out and came to the 
side of the road where Mrs. Bronx and Paul were sitting. 

“Dear little fellow!” said one of them — the same one that had 
spoken before — smoothing down the hair on Paul’s forehead with 
her hand as she spoke, “he looks sick.” 

“ If you do not live far from here,” said Mrs. Bronx, “ and if, 
when you get home, you could spare your man to go to my house 
and ask them to send a carriage here for me, you would do me a 
great favor.” 

“No,” said the lady, “we will not do that. We will take you 
into our carriage at once, and drive you immediately home.” 

“I am sorry to trouble you so much,” said Mrs. Bronx. “ It 
is some distance to my house — nearly a mile.” 


SICKNESS. 


45 


They take Paul and his mother into the carriage. 


“ It will be no trouble at all,” said the lady, “ but a great pleas- 
ure. And it is no matter how far it is, whether one mile or ten 
miles. You shall get into the carriage directly.” 

So saying, she ordered Patrick to turn the carriage round and 
to bring it up as near as possible to the place where Mrs. Bronx 
and Paul were sitting. Patrick then lifted Paul up gently, and 
put him into the carriage upon the back seat. The two ladies 
then insisted that his mother should sit by his side, so that she 
could partly hold him in her arms, while they themselves took the 
forward seat. 

“ If you would rather have the carriage to yourself,” said the 
lady, stopping a moment before taking her seat, “ we can get out 
and wait here until Patrick comes back with it.” 

“ Oh no,” said Mrs. Bronx, “ by no means. We should like to 
have you go with us very much.” 

In the mean time, the old farmer and his wife, seated in their 
wagon, had been watching the movement of the carriage, and when 
they saw that the lady and the sick child were received into it, 
they began to drive on. Mrs. Bronx thanked them for waiting, 
and then Patrick, having mounted on the box, began to put the 
horses in motion. 

“Drive gently, Patrick,” said the lady. “Drive very gently 
indeed.” 

In this way, in the course of about ten or fifteen minutes, Paul 
was conveyed safely home. 


46 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


Paul ia very sick. 


Some account of his physician. 


CHAPTER YI. 

PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 

After this, for several weeks, Paul was very sick. He was 
confined to his bed almost all the time, and at intervals he suffer- 
ed a great deal of distress and pain. He was, however, very pa- 
tient. He never uttered any murmurings or complainings, and, 
whenever his mother or any one else came to his bedside, he al- 
ways looked up to them with a smile. 

The physician who attended him in his sickness was a certain 
Hr. Skeele, who lived in the town. Hr. Skeele used to come and 
make Paul a visit every day. He was a very excellent physician, 
and not only so, but he was a sensible and intelligent man. He 
was very kind-hearted too, and he took a great deal of interest in 
his little patient. He became very much interested in him from 
the first time that he saw him. When he came in and began to 
examine the case by feeling of Paul’s pulse, looking at his tongue, 
and asking his mother various questions concerning him, for a 
time Paul said nothing except to reply whenever the doctor put 
any question directly to him. At last the doctor went to a table 
to write a prescription, and, as he took his seat, he looked up at 
Mrs. Bronx, saying, 

“ Can you get him to take medicine without a great deal of dif- 
ficulty ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Paul, answering at once himself, instead of 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


47 


The doctor surprised at Paul’s answer. The doctor’s usual experience. 

waiting for his mother to speak. “ She will have no difficulty at 
all. I will take any kind of medicine, and in any way.” 

The doctor was very much surprised to hear such an answer 
as this from a child. He was accustomed to meet with all sorts 
of trouble and difficulty in administering medicine to children, ei- 
ther on account of the foolish obstinacy of the children themselves, 
or from the total want of government exercised over them by their 
mothers. 

Generally, when he asked this question of a mother, the answer 
which he. obtained was, 

“Oh yes, I think little Charley will take his medicine like a 
good boy. He is going to be a good boy, I am sure, and take his 
medicine at once, and so get well.” 

Or else, 

“^o, doctor, he can’t take medicine at all. I have tried a great 
many times, and I never can get it down, and I don’t know what 
we shall do.” 

Or sometimes the mother, when this question was asked, would 
come with a mysterious air to the doctor, and say in a whisper, so 
that the boy could not hear, 

“Hush, doctor! don’t say a word about medicine. We must 
contrive some way to get him to take it without knowing it. If 
he has the least idea that any thing I bring has medicine about it, 
I can’t possibly get him to touch it.” 

The doctor was accustomed to all such replies as these. But 
for the sick child to say himself, without waiting for his mother to 
answer, that he would take any medicine and in any way, was 


48 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOrv. 


Children that won’t take their medicine. 


very extraordinary. The words indicated a degree of manliness 
of character which the doctor had never met before in one so 
young. 

Indeed, he knew that it often happened that when a physician 
had been called to visit a sick child, and had left a prescription 
for it, and then, after going away, had come back the next day to 
see what the effect of the remedy had been, he found that the med- 
icine had not been administered at all. The mother would bring 
him the vial at the bedside, nearly full, almost as it came from 



the apothecary’s, and, with a countenance of great distress, tell him 
that she had not been able to induce the child to swallow but a 
very few drops of it. 

Dr. Skeele was accordingly a good deal surprised, and, at the 
same time, very much pleased with what Paul said. He, how- 
ever, did not praise him for it, but said to himself, 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


49 


The doctor begins to feel a strong interest in his patient. 

44 I will wait and see whether he will be as good as his word. 
He may find that what I give him tastes worse than he sup- 
poses.” 

But Paul was as good as his word. Whenever any thing was 
brought to him to take, he summoned all his resolution and drank 
it down at once, without making any difficulty whatever. 

For this and other reasons the doctor soon began to feel a great 
interest in Paul, and after a week or two, when Paul began to get 
somewhat better, he used to stop and talk with him a little at ev- 
ery visit, and tell him the news about what was going on in town. 
One day he would tell about the progress of a vessel that was 
building, and when it was going to be launched ; and another day 
he would tell him who had bought a new horse or a new car- 
riage, or about some accident that had happened in the town. 
All this intelligence interested Paul very much, and he was always 
glad when he heard the doctor’s gig drive up to the door. 

One afternoon, near the middle of winter, when Dr. Skeele had 
been making Paul his customary visit, he sat down by his bed- 
side before he went away, in order to have a little talk with him. 
Mrs. Bronx had gone out of the bed-room where Paul was lying, 
so that there was nobody present but the doctor and his patient. 

44 I think you have done me a great deal of good, doctor, by 
coming to see me and by the medicines that you have given me,” 
said Paul, 44 and I am very much obliged to you for it indeed.” 

44 Do you think you are really better?” asked the doctor. 

44 Oh yes, sir,” said Paul, 44 1 am a great deal better than I 
was when you first came to see me. I can sit up now pretty 


-50 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOK. 


He thinks that Paul is dangerously sick. 


His reflections. 


well, and if it was only summer weather I think I could go out 
of doors and almost play.” 

“Poor boy!” said the doctor to himself, “I am afraid you 
will never play out of doors again.” 

The truth was, that though Paul was a great deal more com- 
fortable, and though the severe distress and pain that he had suf- 
fered at first had ceased, still the disease, though thus somewhat 
changed in character, had been making very steady progress, and 
the doctor was pretty well convinced that before many months 
Paul would die. 

But he had not expressed this opinion to Paul’s father or moth- 
er, and he was quite at a loss whether he ought to do it or not, 
unless they specially asked him. 

“ I do not know what good it would do,” said he to himself. 
“Iam sure that the dear little fellow is fully prepared to die, and 
he therefore does not require to know that his hour is coming ; 
and as to his father and mother, it would only distress them to 
no purpose to know that they are so soon to lose their little son.” 

“ Besides,” thought he, furthermore, in reflecting on the subject, 
“it is not absolutely certain that he will die. While there is life 
there is hope, and he may possibly recover, after all.” 

So the doctor had resolved to say nothing in respect to the 
great danger that Paul was in unless his parents expressly asked 
his opinion. 

The reason why the doctor thought that Paul was prepared to 
die was that he observed the spirit and temper of mind that ho 
manifested during his sickness, not only towards his parents and 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


51 


Paul’s morning and evening devotions. Anecdote. 

to those around him, but also toward God. His mother always 
came to his bedside morning and evening, and read to him a verse 
or two from the Scriptures, and also a prayer from a little prayer- 
book which Paul kept under his pillow. 

One morning near the early part of his sickness, when he seem- 
ed to be suffering an unusual degree of pain and distress, his 
mother was intending to omit this exercise, thinking that he was 
too sick that morning to attend to it. But Paul, after waiting for 
some little time after the usual hour, and finding that his mother 
did not come, contrived to feel under the pillow and find his 
prayer-book, and then, the next time that his mother came near 
his bed, he held it up, saying “ Mother I” and then pointed to the 
book, trying at the same time to smile, though his face was full 
of an expression of pain. 

“ I was going to omit reading to you this morning,” said his 
mother, “because you are so sick, and I thought it might worry 
you.” 

“Oh no, mother,” said Paul, “it does not worry me; it com- 
forts me ; and the sicker I am, the more I need the comfort of it.” 

It was very evident, too, that this religious service was by no 
means a mere form with little Paul, for repeated instances occur- 
red in which, sick as he was, and confined to his room, and almost 
to his bed, he turned the lessons which he learned from the verses 
that his mother read to him out of the Bible, and the explana- 
tions which she gave of their meaning, to a very practical account. 
At one time, for example, the verses which Mrs. Bronx read to 
Paul happening to contain this passage, 


52 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOE. 


The verse about doing justly. 


Mrs. Bronx’s explanations. 


“And what doth the Lord require of thee but to do justly, to 
love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?”* 

Mrs. Bronx, in explaining to Paul the meaning of the passage, 
made some allusion, under the head of doing justly, to the duty of 
making reparation, so far as it may be in our power, when we 
have done our fellow-creatures any wrong, either intentionally or 
otherwise. 

“ Do you think we ought to make reparation,” asked Paul, 
“ when we did not mean to do the wrong, but it was only an ac- 
cident?” 

“ What do you think yourself on that point?” asked his mother. 

“Why, if it was only an accident,” said Paul, “I don’t think 
we are to blame.” 

“ No,” replied his mother, “ if it was purely an accident, we are 
not to blame ; but still, perhaps, we ought to make reparation, be- 
cause we ought to bear the consequences of our own accidents our- 
selves, and not let them come upon other people.” 

Paul said no more on the subject at that time, but in the course 
of the day he asked to have Phelim come into the room. 

“ I want to get Phelim to do something for me,” said he. 

So, when Phelim came into Paul’s room and stood by his bed- 
side, Paul asked him whether he could not make him a whistle. 

“ Certainly, Master Paul,” said Phelim, “ I can make you a 
whistle very easily.” 

“I wish you would make one for me, then,” said Paul, “and 
make it as good as you can. I want it for a particular purpose.” 

* Micah, vi., 8. 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


53 


Phelim's whistle. The trial of it Its destination. 

So Phelim made a whistle out of one of the joints of a reed- 
pole, plugging up the end in a peculiar way for that purpose, and 
shaping the end properly for a mouth-piece. 

When it was done he brought it in and showed it to Paul. 
Paul was very much pleased with the appearance of it, and he 
asked Phelim to blow it for him, so that he might hear it sound. 

“ Yes, Phelim,” said he, “ it is a first-rate whistle. I did not 
think you could make one out of a reed. I thought it would be 
a willow whistle.” 

“ I made it out of a reed because I thought you would like it 
better,” said Phelim. 

“Yes,” replied Paul, “I do like it better, and I think that 
Georgie Kip will like it better too. You see, it is for Georgie 
Kip, to pay him for one of his that I lost last summer. I lost it 
by dropping it down over the rocks by the platform, and we could 
not find it again ; so I thought I would get you to make him this 
one, and the next time you go to the town I want you to stop by 
the way and give it to him. You know where he lives ?” 

“Oh yes,” said Phelim, “I know where he lives, and I will 
give it to him to-night. When I come home I will tell you what 
he says.” 

It was such things as these, showing how conscientious Paul 
was, and how sincerely desirous he seemed of acting in all cases 
as the law of God required, and how deeply interested he was in 
the right performance of all his religious duties, that led Dr. Skeele 
to believe that he was fully prepared to die, and that, consequent- 
ly, it was of very little consequence whether he should be inform- 


54 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


The doctor determines to have a conversation with Paul. 


ed or not that his death was approaching. Accordingly, when he 
sat down at Paul’s bedside on the occasion referred to at the com- 
mencement of this chapter, he did not intend to say any thing to 
him about the danger that he was in. And yet, when Paul spoke 
of his feeling so much better, and alluded to the expectation which 
he cherished of being well enough, when the warm weather came 
on, to go out to play again, as he had been accustomed to do the 
summer before, he had some question in his own mind whether 
it was quite honest in him to encourage and strengthen the delu- 
sion by seeming to share the hopes which Paul thus expressed 
to him. 

He sat still for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say. 
Presently, however, he turned to Paul, who was lying with his 
cheek on his hand and the back of his hand upon the pillow, and 
said, 

“ Then you think that by the time next summer comes you 
will be well ?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Paul, with a smile ; “ don’t you ?” 

“ You feel a great deal better?” said the doctor, in an inquiring 
tone. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Paul ; “ you can’t conceive how much better I 
feel. If I could only breathe a little easier, I think I should be 
almost well now.” 

“ Suppose I should tell you that you would probably not be 
well by next summer, but that your sickness might last yet for a 
good many years, would it trouble you a great deal ?” 

“No, sir,” said Paul. “I would like to get well pretty soon 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


55 


, The doctor’s opinion about willingness to die. 


if I could, but if I knew I could not it would not trouble me a 
great deal.” 

“And suppose you were to be told that you probably will not 
get well at all, but will die,” continued the doctor, “ would that 
trouble you a great deal ?” 

“No, sir,” said Paul, after pausing a moment to think, “I 
don’t think it would trouble me a great deal” 

“ Though still you would much rather get well ?” said the doc- 
tor, interrogatively. 

“Yes, sir, I think I should,” said Paul. “Do you think that 
that is wrong, doctor ?” he continued, after thinking a moment ; 
“ do you think I ought to be willing to die ?” 

“ I don’t think that there is any thing at all wrong in prefer- 
ring to live,” said the doctor. “ If you knew that it was determ- 
ined that you must die, you ought to be resigned to God’s will, 
and not repine and murmur at it, and make yourself unhappy at 
the thought ; but there is nothing at all wrong in your desiring 
to live. Indeed, God has made it our duty to desire to live, and 
to do all in our power to preserve and prolong our lives. That 
is one of the laws of our nature. 

“ But now there is one question more that I am going to ask 
you,” continued the doctor. “ Suppose you were a man, and that 
you were a doctor like me, and that you had among your patients 
a sick man who thought that he was going to get well, but you 
knew that he would not get well, but would die ; should you 
think, in that case, that you ought to tell him ?” 

“ I don’t know, sir,” said Paul. ■ “ Should you?” 


56 


PAUL AND THE DOCTOR. 


Farther conversation. The doctor is left in doubt. 

“ Sometimes I don’t know exactly what I ought to do in such 
a case,” said the doctor. “ Suppose that you were the sick man, 
do you think you would wish to have me tell you ?” 

“ Why, I don’t know, sir,” said Paul, speaking in a thoughtful 
and hesitating manner. “ Perhaps it might frighten me a little.” 

“Would it frighten you now, do you think,” said the doctor, 
“ if I were to tell you that I thought you would not get well, but 
would die?” 

“Why no, sir. I don’t think it would frighten me as I am 
now, but it might frighten me if I were a man.” 

“Why do you think it would be more likely to frighten you 
if you were a man than it would now ?” asked the doctor. 

“ I don’t know, sir, exactly,” said Paul. “ Somehow or other, 
it seems to be a more dreadful thing for a man to die than for a 
small boy like me.” 

The doctor was not assisted much in respect to the decision of 
the question whether he ought to inform Paul of the danger he 
was in by this conversation. He came to the conclusion that it 
would do very little good to make known the truth to him, and 
very little injury to withhold it, and that, consequently, it was not 
of much consequence which way the question was decided, but 
on which side the preponderance of advantage lay he was as far 
from being able to determine as ever. 

“ I will not decide immediately,” said the doctor to himself, as 
he came to the end of the conversation. “ I will reflect upon it a 
little longer before I come to a conclusion.” 

So he bade Paul good-by and went away. 


A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 


57 


Anxiety which Paul’s father and mother felt concerning him. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 

Neither Captain Bronx nor his wife had thus far asked Dr. 
Skeele what he thought in respect to the question of Paul’s get- 
ting well. As for Mrs. Bronx, she did not dare to ask him, she 
was so afraid that the doctor would say he thought that her little 
son would die. 

If she had supposed that the doctor would have told her that 
he thought there was no danger, she would have asked him at 
once, for it would have comforted her heart exceedingly to have 
heard him express an opinion that Paul would get well ; but she 
did not dare to ask him, for fear that his opinion might be that 
Paul would die. 

“ I will wait a little while till he begins to get better,” said she 
to herself, “and then I will ask the doctor.” 

In respect to Paul’s father the case was somewhat the same. 
He did not, however, postpone asking the doctor for his opinion 
on account of his not being willing to hear and know the truth, but 
rather because, being himself a man of very cautious temperament, 
and accustomed to act always in a deliberate manner, he wished 
to give the doctor a full and fair opportunity to make up his mind 
in the case. 

“ I will wait a reasonable time,” said he to himself, “ and then 
I will put the question to him point blank.” 


58 


A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 


Captain Bronx goes to see the doctor at his office. 


So the weeks passed away until the middle of winter without 
the expression of any positive opinion on the part of the doctor in 
respect to Paul’s case either to his father or his mother. 

At length, about the middle of the winter, and very soon after 
the time when the conversation took place which is related in the 
last chapter, Captain Bronx, one day on his arrival from his trip 
to New York, instead of proceeding directly home, went first to 
the doctor’s office. 

The doctor lived in a pleasant house situated in one of the prin- 
cipal streets of the town. His office was in a small wing pertain- 
ing to the building. Dr. Skeele was sitting at a table placed in 
the middle of the room, writing a prescription. There were sev- 
eral patients in the office, who had come to consult the doctor, and 
were waiting for their turns. 

It was quite unusual for Captain Bronx to call at the office, and 
Dr. Skeele was accordingly somewhat surprised to see him. His 
first impression was that Paul might be suddenly worse. 

“Ah! captain,” said he, looking up from his writing, “I am 
glad to see you. No bad news, I hope, from home ?” 

“ No,” said the captain. “ Indeed, I have not been home yet. 
I wanted to see you, and so I called here on my way from the 
steamer. I wish to have a little conversation with you when you 
are at leisure for a few moments.” 

“I will see you now,” said the doctor, “if you will walk with 
me into the parlor.” 

So saying, the doctor rose from the table, and conducted the 
captain through a private door which led from the back part of 


A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 


59 


The office. 


The doctor takes Captain Bronx into the parlor. 


the office to the parlor of the house, saying to the patients in the 
office as he passed out that he would return again in a few min- 
utes. 

“I am sorry to take you away from your patients,” said the 
captain, “hut I want to say a few words to you about Paul, and 
I do not like to wait long, for my wife will be expecting me home, 
and I would rather prefer that she should not know of my having 
been here.” 

The doctor knew now very well for what purpose Captain Bronx 
had come to see him, but he was so unwilling to communicate to 
him the painful intelligence which he had in store that he did not 
know what to say or how to begin. 

“ I have come to ask you to tell me plainly what you think of 
little Paul’s case,” said the captain. “I have been waiting to 
have the case develop itself fully, and to give you opportunity to 
watch the progress of it, and to ascertain in some degree how it is 
going to turn. Perhaps I have waited too long. He is evidently 
a great deal more comfortable than he was when you first began 
to visit him, but whether he is radically better or not you can tell 
better than I. At any rate, it is time for me to know definitely 
how the case stands.” 

“ Yes, captain,” said the doctor ; “ I have been desirous of hav- 
ing some conversation with you on the subject for some time. 
Paul’s symptoms have improved in many respects very much, and 
I hope they will improve still more. He sleeps better, and is 
much more free from pain than he was a month or two ago ; but 
then the case does not, in all respects, look quite as promising as 


60 


A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 


Conversation in respect to Paul’s case. The doctor’s opinion. 

we could wish. There is certainly some ground for uneasiness ; 
and perhaps — ” 

Here the doctor hesitated, as if he were at a loss exactly how 
to express himself. 

“ Doctor Skeele,” said the captain, “lam a plain man, and am 
accustomed to plain dealing, and to take things as they are. In 
talking with the child’s mother, it would be very well for you to 
be somewhat cautious ; but with me you can say at once just 
what you think. What I should like to know is whether there 
are at present any sufficient grounds for forming an opinion how 
this case will probably turn, and if so, what the result is likely 
to be.” 

“Iam very sorry to say, Captain Bronx,” replied the doctor, 
“that the prospect is not favorable.” 

“Do you mean that it is decidedly unfavorable?” asked the 
captain. “Give me your honest opinion. I can bear to hear 
the worst.” 

“ I am afraid it is,” said the doctor. “ I am strongly in hopes 
that the dear little fellow will continue to be comfortable, that is, 
in respect to freedom from pain and suffering, but the vital organs 
are, I find, so seriously affected as to make it probable that he can 
not live many months.” 

Although Captain Bronx had said that he could bear to hear 
the worst, he became greatly agitated on hearing these words. 
He turned slowly round toward the window near which he was 
sitting, and seemed for a moment to be looking out into the street. 
He then suddenly rose from his chair, and, without speaking a 


A CALL ON THE DOCTOR. 


61 


Letter from Captain Bronx to the doctor. 

word, walked hurriedly back into the office, and thence passed out 
through the office door and went away. 

The next day the doctor received the following note from the 
captain: 

“ Wednesday morning. 

“Dear Doctor, — Please excuse my leaving you so abruptly 
yesterday afternoon. 

“ This is to say, moreover, that unless something should occur 
to change your views, in which case you will doubtless communi- 
cate with me yourself, I shall say no more to you on the subject 
of our conversation last evening, but that henceforth I put the 
case absolutely and entirely into your hands, and wish you to 
spare no trouble or expense in doing every thing that can be done 
for my son’s comfort and welfare. Call in at any time any other 
physicians that you may wish to consult, and take any other steps 
that you may deem necessary. I give you full power, and throw 
upon you the full responsibility. 

“lam very respectfully yours, 

“ Lemuel Bronx.” 


62 


STORIES. 


The doctor wishes to be honest with Paul. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

STORIES. 

“ The captain has put the case entirely in my hands,” said 
the doctor to himself, in reflecting upon his letter a day or two 
after he had received it, “ so that I must decide for myself wheth- 
er to tell little Paul or not that he will probably die. I think, on 
the whole, it will be best for me to tell him. 

“If I do not tell him,” he said to himself, in thinking farther 
on the subject, “ I shall feel all the time while I am talking with 
him that I am not honest. He will talk about getting well, and 
going out to play, and I, by joining with him in the conversation, 
shall seem to assent to and sanction his hopes, and then, when 
at last he finds that he must die, he will think that I cruelly de- 
ceived him. A boy who is as honest as Paul is toward other 
people deserves that other people should be honest with him.” 

So the doctor resolved to take the first opportunity when he 
was alone with Paul to explain to him plainly what his situation 
was. 

The opportunity, it happened, did not occur very soon. Two 
or three weeks passed away before the doctor was at any time left 
alone with Paul. During this time, however, the little patient 
became more and more comfortable. Although the inward disease 
was all the time making progress, still it had taken such a turn 
that the general health of the system was much less impaired by 


STORIES. 


63 


The doctor comes to visit Paul. 


About stories. 


it than before. Paul said he felt stronger and better every day. 
The doctor came to see him very often, but never obtained an op- 
portunity of speaking with him alone. The reason was, that Mrs. 
Bronx was almost always in the room when the doctor was there. 

At length, one pleasant morning early in March, the doctor 
called to see Paul as usual, and found him bolstered up in bed 
trying to draw. 

“Ah! doctor,” said Paul, laying down his .pencil, “you have 
come just in the right time. I am tired of drawing, and you can 
tell me a story.” * 

Paul very often asked the doctor to tell him a story, and the 
doctor never refused the request. A great many people, having 
an altogether erroneous idea of what will satisfy a child for a sto- 
ry, decline when they are asked, saying that they don’t know any 
stories, or that they have not time to tell them. But the doctor 
never did so. 

And here let me say, for the benefit of such older brothers or 
sisters as may be among the readers of this book, that whenever 
they are asked to tell a story to a younger child who may be un- 
der their care, it is never necessary to say you don’t know any 
stories, it requires so very little in the way of story to satisfy the 
desire of the child. Any little incident or occurrence, real or im- 
aginary, will answer perfectly well for this purpose, and will en- 
tertain and profit the child very much, if you relate it in a dis- 
tinct and detailed manner, and in lively tones of voice, and accom- 
pany it with explanations of all the points which the child might 
otherwise not understand. People often imagine that they can 


64 


STORIES. 


It is very easy to tell children stories. 

not tell the child a story unless they have in their memories some 
long and complicated narrative, involving a complicated plot, and 
constructed in a formal and artistic manner. 

The doctor was always ready to tell Paul a story, even when 
he was in haste on account of having other patients whom he 
must go at once to see. To show how simple these narrations 
were, I will repeat one of them — one which the doctor related to 
Paul one morning, with his hat in his hand. Paul was not so 
well that morning, having passed an uncomfortable night, and, 
when he saw the doctor preparing to go, he said, in a feeble voice, 

“Doctor, don’t you think you could stop long enough to tell 
me a little story ?” 

“ Oh yes,” said the doctor, “ I can tell you a story. I will tell 
you something curious that happened to me yesterday when I was 
going to see some of my patients about five miles from here, back 
among the mountains. 

“ I was riding along in my gig, and I thought I heard a clink- 
ing sound about the horse’s feet, but I was busy thinking of some- 
thing else, and I did not pay much attention to it ; but, when you 
are a man, and are driving about in a chaise or gig — if you get 
well enough — and you hear a clinking sound about the horse’s 
feet, I advise you to attend to it : it is a bad sign.” 

“ What is it a sign of?” asked Paul. 

“ It is a sign that one of the horse’s shoes is coming off,” said 
the doctor ; “or, at least, that it is getting loose, and if you don’t 
tighten it it may come off entirely.” 

“ How can you tighten it?” asked Paul. 


STORIES. 


65 


The doctor’s story about the horse’s shoe coming off. 


“ Why, if you have a hammer in the carriage,” replied the doc- 
tor, “ you can drive the loose nails home again, and that will 
tighten the shoe. You must have a stone to clinch with. You 
pick up a small stone by the wayside, and hold it against the 
point of the nail, while you drive away with the hammer at the 
head.” 

“But suppose you have not got a hammer?” suggested Paul. 

“Ah! but you must always take a hammer,” said the doctor. 
“ Whenever you go to ride any where in the country with a horse 
and carriage, always take a hammer.” 

“Yes, sir, I will,” said Paul. “But go on with the story.” 

“ I rode along until I came to a hill.” 

“A hill to go up, or a hill to go down?” asked Paul. 

“A hill to go down,” replied the doctor. “Well, I was in a 
hurry, and so, after going carefully down the first part of the hill, 
I let the horse go faster. There were a good many little stones in 
the road, and we went rattling over them, until at length, just as 
we got to the bottom of the hill, and the horse was going the fast- 
est, suddenly the shoe came off entirely, and I heard it fly out 
among the stones by the side of the road.” 

“ And what did you do ?” asked Paul. 

“Why, I stopped the horse,” replied the doctor, “and went 
back to find the shoe. The horse stood very quietly while I was 
gone.” 

“Did you find it?” asked Paul. 

“Yes, I found it after a while,” said the doctor. “I put the 
shoe into the bottom of the gig, and then got in myself. Then I 
36 E 


66 


STORIES. 


The doctor inquires of a boy. 


Shoe put on again. 


began to drive on, but I made the horse walk. It never will do 
to let a horse trot over a stony road with a shoe off.” 

“ Why not?” asked Paul. 

“Because that would spoil his hoof,” said the doctor. “A 
horse’s hoof is pretty hard, but it is not hard enough for him to 
trot comfortably over gravel and stones. 

“ I went on a little way,” continued the doctor, “ until at length 
I met a boy coming along the road driving a cow. I asked the 
boy how far it was to the next blacksmith’s shop. He said there 
was a blacksmith’s shop about a mile farther on. 

“ ‘ Yery well,’ said I, ‘ my horse can go a mile farther without 
hurting his hoof much.’ 

“ So I went on. At last I came to the blacksmith’s shop. 
The blacksmith was standing at the door. ‘ Can you shoe my 
horse ?’ says I. 4 Yes, sir,’ says he. ‘ Can you shoe him quick V 
says I. ‘ Yes, sir,’ says he. ‘ My fire is out, but I will light it 
up again immediately.’ 

“ So he lighted up his fire, and made some new nails, and put 
the shoe on again. I paid him for the work, and then got into 
my gig and drove on. And that is the end of the story.” 

“ I think it is a very good story indeed,” said Paul. 

The story was a very good one for its purpose. It not only 
amused and instructed Paul at the time, and made him forget his 
pain, but it furnished him with a subject of thought, which occu- 
pied him at intervals nearly all day ; and when the doctor came 
the next morning, Paul had a great many questions to ask him, 
such as why horses and oxen needed to be shod and not cows, 


STORIES. 


67 


Paul asks for a story about a bear. 


and, since shoes were so necessary for horses, how they could get 
along when they were wild in the woods, in the countries where 
they grew, and where there was nobody to shoe them. 

Thus you see how simple a thing will answer to make a story 
for a child, if you only relate it in a clear and in a spirited man- 
ner. 

But I must come back to the visit which the doctor made to 
Paul on the morning in March, when Paul was drawing. Paul 
laid his pencil down when the doctor came in, as I have already 
related, saying that he was tired of drawing, and that he wished 
the doctor to tell him a story. 

“ Very well,” said the doctor. “ What shall it be about?” 

“About a bear,” said Paul. 

“Good!” said the doctor. “A bear is as good a subject for a 
story as you can have. Lie down again upon the pillow and shut 
your eyes, and I will tell you a story of a bear.” 

So Paul laid his head down again and shut his eyes, while the 
doctor took hold of his hand and began to place his fingers upon 
the wrist, in order that he might be feeling his pulse at the same 
time that he was telling the story. 

“ Once upon a time two men were traveling on horseback, and 
they came to a wood. They went on into the wood, and before 
long they came to a place where two cross-roads met. At first 
they did not know which road to take. One of them thought that 
they ought to take the left-hand road, but the other thought they 
ought to go to the right. 

“After talking about this question for some time, they decided 


68 


STORIES. 


Way to draw lots. 


Feeling Paul’s pulse. 


to draw lots, in order to settle which road they should take. So 
one of the men reached up to the branches of the trees over his 
head and gathered two leaves. While he was doing this, the 
other man looked away, so as not to see the leaves. 

4 4 The man who had the leaves put one in one hand and the 
other in the other, and shut his hands up. 

44 ‘Now,’ said he to the other man, 4 1 have got two leaves in 
my hand, an oak leaf and a maple leaf. One is in my right hand 
and the other in my left. Which leaf shall decide for the road ?’ 

44 4 The maple leaf,’ said the other man. 

44 So the man that had the leaves opened his hands, and behold, 
the maple leaf was in the left hand. Thus it was decided that 
they should take the left-hand road. 

44 They went on a little way, but the woods became thicker, and 
the path less and less distinct, and at last they lost their way al- 
together. At length one of the men heard a growling. 

44 4 Hark !’ said he, 4 it seems to me I hear a growling.’ 

44 4 Be still a little while,’ said the other man, 4 and let us listen.’ 

44 So they were still for a while, in order that they might listen. 
I will stop in the story about as long as they stopped to listen. 
You lie still and keep your eyes shut.” 

So saying, the doctor took out his watch, and began counting 
Paul’s pulse. He thought that Paul would be tired of waiting 
if he counted the pulse for a whole minute, and so he counted only 
for a quarter of a minute. By multiplying the number of pulsa- 
tions thus obtained by four, he obtained the number for a whole 
minute. 


STORIES. 


69 


The doctor goes on with the story. 


The picture. 


When the quarter of a minute had expired, and the doctor had 
made his computation, he uttered a low growl. 

“Just before they stopped listening,” said the doctor, continu- 
ing his story, “ they heard the growling again, nearer than before. 
Pretty soon they heard a rustling among the trees and bushes 
not far off. It was a bear creeping through the thicket. So they 
started their horses, and set off through the woods as fast as they 
could go.” 

“ Did the bear come after them?” asked Paul, eagerly, opening 
his eyes and lifting up his head from the pillow. 

“ Yes,” said the doctor, “ the bear came after them at full speed. 
When they looked round they could just see him coming into 
view from behind some bushes.” 

“ Could not you make me a little picture of it, doctor ?” asked 
Paul. 

The doctor was often in the habit of making little drawings to 
illustrate the stories which he related to Paul, and he now took 
up Paul’s pencil and made a drawing of the men racing through 
the woods pursued by the bear, as he had described it in the sto- 
ry. Turn over the leaf, and you will see the picture. 

Paul watched the doctor while he was drawing, and then look- 
ed at the picture long and earnestly. After he had looked at it 
until he was satisfied, he asked the doctor to go on with his story. 

“ Did the men get away ?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said the doctor, “they got away. They galloped on 
until they had passed through the thick part of the woods, and 
then they came out into a pretty good road. The bear did not 


70 


STORIES, 


Representation of the travelers and the bear. 



TIIE DOCTOR'S PICTURE. 



PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


71 


The doctor proposes to Paul to go out and take a ride. 


dare to follow them any farther, partly because he knew that the 
horses could go so fast in a good road that there would have been 
no chance for him to overtake them, and partly because he was 
always afraid, when he came out toward any part of the open coun- 
try, that he might meet some farmer or hunter with a gun. So 
he turned round and went back into the woods again, snarling and 
growling. And that is the end of the story.” 

The stories which the doctor related to Paul always ended well. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 

“ But now, Paul,” said the doctor, after he had finished his 
story, “ how would you like to go out and take a little ride this 
morning ?” 

“ Why, doctor,” exclaimed Paul, very much surprised at this 
proposition, “it is winter! Sick people can’t go out to ride in 
the winter.” 

“No,” replied the doctor, “it is not winter ; it is spring.” 

“Why, I thought it was February,” said Paul. 

“ No,” rejoined the doctor, “ it is March. To-day is the sec- 
ond day of March.” 

“ Then the spring has really come,” said Paul. “ I did not 
know it before. I should like to go out and ride very much, it I 
can. But the roads are very bad, I suppose — all ice and snow.” 

“ I should not take you out to ride in any road,” said the doc- 


72 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


Paul’s consultation with his mother. 


The preparations. 


tor. “ I should take you on a sled, and draw you about the 
yard.” 

“ Well,” said Paul, speaking in a tone of great satisfaction, and 
sitting up, at the same time, in bed, “ I should like to go very 
much, if my mother is willing. Are you willing, mother ? It is 
really spring.” 

Mrs. Bronx, who was sitting near the fire in Paul’s room during 
the doctor’s visit, said, in answer to Paul’s question, that the doc- 
tor was at liberty to do with his patient whatever he pleased. 

“ Then come, mother, and help me up and dress me,” said Paul. 

“While you are getting up and getting dressed,” said the doc- 
tor, “I am going on to the next house to see a patient there. I 
will be back by the time that you are ready.” 

So saying, the doctor went away. 

As he went out, he stopped in a yard where Phelim was at work 
sawing wood. 

“Phelim,” said he, “have you a hand-sled about the house?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Phelim, “two of them.” 

“ I want the biggest one,” said the doctor. “ Please bring it 
out and let me look at it.” 

So Phelim went into the shed, and presently returned with a 
large hand-sled. It was what is called a framed sled, and it had 
a long tongue. 

“ That is it exactly,” said the doctor. “ Now go into the 
house, and ask your mother to give you a good, comfortable arm- 
chair, with a soft seat and good arms. But it must not be too 
large.” 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


73 


The sled made ready. 


Ice and snow on the ground. 


So Phelim went in, and Pose gave him such a chair as the doc- 
tor had described. Phelim brought the chair out ; and then the 
doctor, with Phelim’s help, lashed it strongly on the sled, so as to 
make a good seat there for Paul to sit upon. 

“ Now, Phelim,” said the doctor, “ bring me a good buffalo-robe, 
or a sleigh-robe of any kind.” 

Phelim went in, and presently returned with a white bear-skin 
sleigh-robe, one which Mrs. Bronx was accustomed to use when 
taking a sleigh-ride in the winter. The doctor spread this robe 
over the chair which had been lashed to the sled, and then, leav- 
ing every thing as it was, he went away, telling Phelim that he 
should be back again in about fifteen minutes. 

There had been a great deal of snow that winter, and a large 
quantity of what had fallen still remained upon the ground. It 
had been thawed, however, by a recent rain, but after the thaw 
there had come a hard frost, so that now the yards all about the 
house, and the roads, were covered every where with incrustations 
of smooth and glassy ice, except in the places where there lay the 
remains of the old drifts of snow. And even these patches of 
snow had been thawed and frozen again, until what was left of 
them was almost as hard as the ice. 

The ice on the river, too, was smooth and glassy. This was 
owing to the rain which had fallen upon the upper surface of it, and 
had melted the snow which was lying there, so as to cover the ice 
with a sheet of water. This water, afterward freezing, made the 
whole surface of the river appear as polished as a mirror. 

Still, notwithstanding the icy condition of the ground, the morn- 


74 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


The sled comes to the door. Paul ready. He is brought out. 

ing was very pleasant. The air was calm and mild, and the sun 
was shining very cheerfully. In the course of a few hours the 
doctor knew that it would be quite wet every where ; but at the 
time when he proposed to Paul to take the ride, the snow and ice 
had not begun mucli to melt, and so he conceived the idea of 
drawing Paul about the yard a little on the sled, by way of allow- 
ing him to breathe the fresh and open air once more. 

In about fifteen minutes the doctor came back, as he had prom- 
ised ; and then, taking the sled, he began to draw it round toward 
the front door. 

“Would you like to have me go and draw Mr. Paul?” asked 
Phelim. 

“ JSTo, I thank you,” replied the doctor. “I am going to draw 
him myself.” 

So Phelim went on sawing his wood. 

When the doctor arrived at the front of the house, he placed 
the sled opposite the end of the piazza in a convenient position 
for Paul to get into the chair. When he had done this he began 
to hear a tapping at the window, and looking up, he saw Paul 
standing there, dressed, and with his coat and cap on, all ready. 
He looked at the sled, and nodded and smiled, to express his 
satisfaction with the arrangements which the doctor had made 
for him. 

The doctor went into the house, and there, taking Paul up in 
his arms, he brought him out and put him in the chair upon the 
sled. He then turned up the tongue of the sled, and gave it to 
Paul to hold. 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


75 


Paul seems to enjoy his ride very much. 

“ Hold the tongue,” said the doctor, “ and make believe that 
you are steering the sled, while I push behind.” 

The snow and ice which covered the ground were so hard and 
smooth that the sled glided along very easily. 

“What a pleasant morning it is!” said Paul, “and what a 
good ride I am having ! This is the first time I have been out 
since I was sick. How strange every things looks ! There’s the 
very old path leading to the woods, and the big gate, and the big 
lilac bush and all. And there’s the martin-house. It is not time 
yet for the martins to come, I suppose.” 

“No,” replied the doctor, “ not yet.” 

“Nor for the river to be open,” said Paul. “ I wish the river 
was open, so that I could see the sloops and steamers coming and 
going.” 

“I do too,” said the doctor. “But all that you can see upon 
the river now is the skating and the sleighing. There are boys 
on the ice skating ; and over near the farther shore there is a road 
where sleighs and sleds are going to and fro.” 

“ Let us go and see them,” said Paul. 

So the doctor pushed the sled over to a place near the bank of 
the river, where Paul could look down upon the ice. It was a 
sunny place, too, where the sled stopped, and as the air was per- 
fectly calm, Paul felt quite warm and comfortable remaining there. 

“ What a pleasant morning it is !” said Paul ; “ and it is such 
a nice thing to be getting well — when you have been sick!” 

“Iam very glad that you feel so much more comfortable,” said 
the doctor, “ but then you are very far yet from being well.” 


76 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


The doctor commences a serious conversation with Paul. 


“ Yes, sir,” said Paul, “ I know it ; but then I am getting well 
pretty fast, and by-and-by I shall get well entirely ; don’t you 
think so, doctor?” 

“ Why, if I thought you would not get well,” replied the doc- 
tor, “perhaps it would be better for me not to tell you, for fear 
of alarming you and worrying your mind, and so making you 
worse.” 

“ Ah ! but, doctor, I should much rather have you tell me,” re- 
plied Paul. 

“ Don’t you think it would alarm you, and make you very un- 
happy,” asked the doctor, “ if I were to tell you that I thought 
you would die?” 

Paul paused some time before answering, as if he was consider- 
ing the question in a very careful manner. At length he said, 

“ I would rather have you tell me, doctor, at any rate.” 

“ Some persons,” said the doctor, “ are very much alarmed, and 
are made very unhappy to be told that they are going to die. It 
is because they have nothing to look forward to beyond this 
world. Then there are others that hope that they shall go to 
heaven ; but they don’t know exactly what heaven is, or how it 
will seem to be there, and so they feel that they would rather 
stay longer in this world.” 

“ I think , said Paul, after pausing a moment, and speaking 
in a timid and hesitating manner, as if he did not know but that 
the feeling that he was expressing was wrong, “ I think that I 
should rather stay longer in this world.” 

“ That’s a right feeling,” said the doctor. “ It is perfectly 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


77 


About being willing to die. 


Future happiness. 


right for you to prefer to live, and to say that you prefer to live. 
People ought never to say that they prefer to die, because they 
think it makes them appear good to say so. We ought to speak 
the honest truth about it. And the honest truth is, that unless 
we are overwhelmed with some extraordinary and hopeless sorrow 
or suffering, we all prefer to live. But then we ought to be en- 
tirely resigned, and willing to die, if God thinks best.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul, “I think we ought.” 

“ And there is no need of feeling uneasy about it,” said the doc- 
tor. “It is true that sometimes, in dying, people suffer a great 
deal of pain, and so they do often at other times ; but generally, 
in dying, they are free from pain. It is usually like going to 
sleep.” 

“ I am glad of that,” said Paul. 

“ And then, although we don’t know precisely where we shall 
be or what we shall find after we die, because God conceals that 
all from us, for some good reason or other, still we know that if 
God loves us, and we love him, it must be a very easy thing for 
him to make us happy.” 

“Yes, I am sure it must be,” said Paul. 

“ Just see how many things he has contrived to make you hap- 
py here where you live, on this river bank,” added the doctor — 
“ the trees, and the flowers, and the birds, and the butterflies, and 
the flowing river — ” 

“ Only it is not flowing now,” said Paul. 

“ No ; but it gives you almost as much pleasure to see the ice 
and the skaters as it would to see the water and the ships,” re- 


78 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


Continuation of the conversation between Paul and the doctor. 


joined the doctor. “Now if God can so easily contrive such a 
multitude of ways of making us happy here, it is plain that he 
can do it any where else. And he will do it if he loves us and if 
we love him.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul, “I am sure he will.” 

“ So we never need be at all uneasy about the coming of death. 
It is only going to sleep in this world and waking up in anoth- 
er, where we shall find ever so much to make us happy in new 
ways, though we do not know now what it will be that we shall 
find. 

“ When I proposed to you to come out and take a ride this 
morning,” continued the doctor, “did you know what you should 
see and what a good time you would have ?” 

“No, sir,” said Paul ; “ only I knew if you took me out I 
should certainly have a good time.” 

“Yes, you trusted to me,” said the doctor; “so, in going will- 
ingly into another world, whenever God thinks it is best that we 
should go, we trust to him. We may feel perfectly sure that he 
can find ways enough to make us happy there.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul, “I am sure he can. 

“But now, doctor,” added Paul, after a pause, “ do you really 
think that I shall get well or not ?” 

“Iam afraid you will not,” said the doctor ; “and I have been 
wanting to tell you so for some time, for I thought that since there 
is danger that you may die, you would wish to know it.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Paul, speaking in a solemn tone, “ I should 
much rather know it.” 


PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 


79 


Paul rides about the yard. The woods. The cascade. 

“But you must not let it give you any uneasiness,” said the 
doctor. “You must be perfectly willing that God should do with 
you just as he thinks best. Then your mind will be quiet, and 
you will feel happy all the time.” 

“ Well,” said Paul, looking round toward the doctor with an 
expression of contentment and satisfaction on his countenance, “ I 
am willing. I think I would rather get well, but I don’t care a 
great deal about it.” 

“Pray to God every morning and evening,” said the doctor, 
“ that he will give you a quiet mind and complete submission to 
his will, and then, whether you find you are growing better or 
worse, and whether you think you are going to live or to die, you 
will always be contented, light-hearted, and happy.” 

After this the doctor pushed the sled to and fro all about the 
yard, to let Paul see all the places where he used to play when he 
was well, and Paul enjoyed the ride very much. At one time the 
doctor went through the gate into the woods, and let Paul see his 
old wigwam, which was now brown and dry, and good for nothing 
but to burn. 

Not far from the wigwam was a cascade, with a little bridge 
across the stream just below it. The cascade was now, however, 
so much frozen that it was rather a cascade of ice than ot water. 
The doctor lifted Paul out of his chair at this point, and carried 
him down upon the ice, and let him see the curious frost-work of 
stalactites, and admire the formations of bubbles and honeycomb 
in the clear crystal, and watch the gurgling and bubbling of the 
water in the brook below. 


80 


THE LOCOMOTIVE. 


Paul comes in. What he concluded to do. 

Paul continued riding about in this manner for nearly an hour, 
and then the doctor, after pushing the sled up to the piazza, lifted 
Paul out of the chair and carried him into the house. Mrs. Bronx 
was waiting to receive him. She knew that he had enjoyed his 
ride very much indeed, for his face was beaming with contentment 
and satisfaction. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE LOCOMOTIVE. 

Paul concluded not to say any thing to his mother in respect 
to what the doctor had communicated to him, for fear of giving 
her pain. 

“/can bear to know it myself,” said he, in thinking on the sub- 
ject, “ but it would trouble my mother very much indeed, I am 
sure.” 

In the mean time the spring came on, and Paul, instead of grow- 
ing worse, seemed , at least, to be all the time growing better. He 
was pale, and very weak, and any exertion that he attempted to 
make brought on a beating of the heart and a shortness of breath 
which was very distressing. Still, he seemed to be, on the whole, 
rather growing better than worse. 

The doctor took him out to ride several times on his sled, but 
at length the snow and ice melted away so much in the yards that 
the sled would no longer run. 

“ I wish I had a little carriage like this, that could be pushed 


THE LOCOMOTIVE. 


81 


The doctor undertakes to plan a carriage. 

about on wheels,” said Paul, “so that I could ride about in the 
summer.” 

“ I’ll see if I can not contrive some way to get you one,” re- 
plied the doctor. 

Accordingly, the doctor that day went to Captain Bronx, and 
told him that Paul would probably continue in a tolerably com- 
fortable state for some months to come, and that, though he would 
be unable to run about, or even to walk much himself, it would be 
better for him to be out a good deal in the open air ; and, if he 
only had some sort of a little carriage, Phelim might draw him. 

“ I’ll get him a carriage this very day,” said the captain. “ I’ll 
buy the best one that I can find in New York.” 

“There is one difficulty with the little carriages which they 
have in New York,” said the doctor, “and that is, they will only 
run where there is a good uninterrupted road, whereas we want 
to go up and down steps. You see, there are various piazzas 
around the house, and platforms, w T here it would be desirable that 
Paul’s carriage should go up and down. Sometimes, too, as, for 
instance, in rainy weather, he will wish to be trundled about in 
the sheds and barns, and in doing that he will often have steps to 
go up and down.” 

“ Very true,” replied the captain ; “ but what sort of a carriage 
are you going to contrive that will go up and down steps ?” 

“I think I can contrive one,” replied the doctor, “and your 
machinist can make it. At least, he can make the iron work, 
and any wagon-maker or coach-maker can do the rest.” 

The captain’s machinist was a man who was employed to repair 


82 


THE LOCOMOTIVE. 


Dsscription of the carriage. 


Curious contrivance. 


the machinery of the captain’s steam-boat when it got out of 
order. 

“ Very well,” said the captain, “ I wish you would do that. 
Make a drawing of it, and hand it to me, and I will have it made 
immediately.” 

Accordingly, the doctor drew the plan of a little carriage for 
Paul, and the captain had the carriage made. It consisted of a 
very comfortable seat mounted on two wheels. The seat was 
placed in such a manner that the centre of weight came nearly 
over the axle-tree. The carriage was open at the sides, before 
the wheels, and this afforded Paul a very convenient opportunity 
to get in. 

At the back of the carriage, near the top, was an iron bar to 
push by, and below, near the bottom, were two handles, which will 
be presently described. There was no forward seat, for the car- 
riage was intended to carry only one person at a time. Instead 
of this, however, there was, over the place where the forward seat 
would have come, a raised box, which the doctor called the bag- 
gage-box. It was here that Paul was to carry his luncheon, if at 
any time he expected, when lie went out, that he should take a 
long ride. He also kept his knife here, and a small hammer ; and 
it was here, too, that he was to put the flowers that he gathered, 
and the minerals and other curiosities that the doctor thought he 
would sometimes wish to bring home. 

But the chief peculiarity of the carriage was the contrivance 
by which it was fitted to go up and down a step. This was not 
an original contrivance of the doctor’s, but was one which he had 


THE LOCOMOTIVE. 


83 


Use of the forward wheel. 


Phelim employed to propel the carriage. 


seen in use somewhere before. It consisted of a third wheel, 
made smaller than the other two, and fastened to the end of a 
stiff bar, which projected about two feet in front of the carriage. 
When the carriage was pushed from behind, this wheel would 
run along upon the ground in the path like the wheel of a wheel- 
barrow ; but when it was necessary to ascend a step, Phelim, or 
the doctor, or whoever else was pushing the carriage, would bear 
down upon the bar behind, and this would cause the forward 
wheel to rise. This was easily done, as the weight of the car- 
riage and of the load was so nearly poised upon the axle-tree. 

When the wheel had been raised as high as the top of the step 
to be ascended, the pusher would push the carriage forward a lit- 
tle, and let the wheel run upon the platform, or piazza, or what- 
ever it was, until the two wheels came up to the step. Then the 
pusher would stoop down, and take hold of the two handles be- 
low, and lift the back part of the carriage up upon the platform, 
the forward part all this time resting upon the forward wheel. 
By this means the carriage could go up a single step very easily, 
and by reversing the process it could just as easily go down one. 

Paul liked his carriage very much indeed. He named it the 
locomotive. When the spring had fully come on, and the roads 
and paths had become dry, and the weather was settled, Paul 
used to spend a great deal of his time out of doors riding about. 
It was Phelim’s business to push him. Phelim was excused from 
almost all other work, so that he might devote his time wholly 
to Paul. 

Sometimes Paul made quite long excursions in his carriage. 





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all 


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THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


85 


The baggage-box. How Paul used to amuse himself. 

This was, however, only on the days when he felt unusually well. 
On such occasions he would put a bottle of milk and a mug, and 
also bread and butter, cakes, apples, and such things in his bag- 
gage-box, and then would go off into the woods, on what he call- 
ed an exploring tour. Sometimes, when he found a pleasant place 
in the woods, or under the shade of trees by the wayside on some 
back road that he was exploring, he would make a long halt, and 
Phelim would build him a fire, and he would warm his turn-overs 
or roast his apples by it. 

Phelim liked these excursions as much as Paul did. The car- 
riage was very easy to push, and Paul was very light. Besides, 
Paul always gave Phelim a good full share of the luncheon. 


CHAPTER, XI. 

THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 

Captain Bronx was very much at a loss, after he heard the 
doctor’s unfavorable opinion in respect to the result of little Paul’s 
sickness, to know whether he ought to communicate the terrible 
tidings to Paul himself. 

“Poor little fellow!” said he to himself, “it would frighten 
and distress him very much, I suppose, for me to let him know 
that the doctor says that he must die. Still, if it would be the 
means of making him any better prepared for death, I suppose I 
ought to tell him.” 

' Captain Bronx was a very particular man in doing every thing 


86 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


Captain Bronx’s reflections. 


Another conversation with the doctor. 


that he supposed to bejiis duty. “ I must do my duty,” he used 
to say, “ come what will.” 

But in this case he was not quite decided in respect to what 
really was his duty. So he postponed from time to time coming 
to a conclusion. In the mean while, since Paul seemed to he get- 
ting more and more comfortable as the weeks passed on, he began 
to hope, after all, that the doctor might be mistaken. 

“I will wait a little while longer,” he said, “and perhaps the 
doctor will see cause to change his opinion.” 

Things went on in this way until the time when the locomotive 
was built, as described in the last chapter ; and when the captain 
saw Paul riding out in it every morning before he went on board 
his steamer, and heard of the long excursions that he w T as accus- 
tomed sometimes to make in the course of the day, he could not 
help feeling encouraged. 

“Doctors may be mistaken sometimes,” he said, “as well as 
other people. I believe the little fellow will get well, after all.” 

But this feeling of encouragement, which had become quite 
strong, was one day wellnigh extinguished by a fresh conversa- 
tion which he had with the doctor. It happened one morning, 
when on his way to the steam-boat in his chaise, that he met the 
doctor in the street, and he asked him to get into the chaise and 
ride with him a little way. The doctor did so, and then the cap- 
tain asked him whether he had not begun to change his opinion 
in respect to Paul’s case. 

“ Does not it look somewhat more as if he might get well ?” 
asked the captain. 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


87 


Paul’s father consults the doctor again. His fears are confirmed. 

“He may get well,” said the doctor. “ It is possible. I sin- 
cerely wish that he may.” 

“And don’t you begin to think now that he will?” asked the 
captain. 

The doctor hesitated how to reply to this question; but being 
pressed by the captain to speak, and to speak plainly, he said 
that he saw no reason whatever to change the opinion that he 
had expressed before, but every thing, on the contrary, to confirm 
it. He said that Paul might continue pretty comfortable for some 
time longer, but that the disease was making steady progress, 
and he was liable at any time to a sudden attack, under which he 
might sink in a very few hours. 

After hearing this opinion, and after recovering in some meas- 
ure from the fresh shock which it occasioned him, Captain Bronx 
was plunged again into all his former perplexity in respect to the 
question whether or not he ought to explain the state of the case 
to Paul. He finally concluded to consult a minister on the sub- 
ject. The church with which his family was connected in the 
town where he lived had no settled pastor at that time, but he 
was acquainted with a certain minister in New York, and he de- 
termined to ask him. This minister was a very sensible man, 
and a very honest man too. Captain Bronx had long been ac- 
quainted with him. Indeed, he had known him when he was a 
boy. They had been great friends together when they were at 
school, and the acquaintance and friendship between them had 
been continued ever since, notwithstanding the very different paths 
of life which they had respectively followed. 


88 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


He goes to consult a minister in New York. 

“ I’ll go and see Mr. Ray the very first hour I have to spare in 
New York,” said Captain Bronx to himself. 

The spare hour came the next day, and the captain took his 
place in an omnibus in Wall Street, where he had gone to do 
some business at a bank, and rode up town to Fifteenth Street, 
where Mr. Ray lived. 

The captain was ushered by the servant-girl into a small par- 
lor, and then gave his card to the girl, as is the custom in making 
calls in large cities, in order that she might take it up stairs to 
Mr. Ray. In a very short time the girl came down again, and 
asked the captain to walk up to Mr. Ray’s study. 

So the captain went up. Mr. Ray met him at the head of the 
stairs, and gave him a very cordial reception. 

“ Captain,” said he, “lam very glad to see you, though I con- 
fess it is not to every visitor that I can say that when I am in the 
midst of my sermon.” 

So saying, Mr. Ray drew the captain into his study. 

“I am always glad to see you, captain,” continued Mr. Ray, 
“ and especially so when I am writing a sermon, for I always get 
something, in talking with you, to put into it.” 

The captain smiled faintly at hearing these words, and Mr. Ray 
at once perceived from the expression of his countenance that 
some trouble was weighing upon his mind. So he stopped sud- 
denly, and changing entirely his tone, he asked, with a counte- 
nance expressive of concern, 

* ■ How are you all at home ? How is your little boy ?” 

“ He continues quite comfortable,” said the captain. “ I have 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


89 


Conversation with Mr. Ray. 


Mr. Ray’s questions. 


come to ask your advice about him. I am sorry to interrupt you 
in your work, but it will not take long.” 

Captain Bronx then proceeded at once to state the case in re- 
spect to little Paul, and to ask Mr. Bay’s advice upon the ques- 
tion whether it would be best or not to let him know how sick he 
was. 

“ That depends very much upon circumstances,” said Mr. Bay. 
“ What sort of a boy is he?” 

“Ah! that is not for me to say,” replied the captain. “You 
ought to have been up the river to pay me a visit long ago, and 
give me an opportunity to make you acquainted with my family.” 

“ So I ought,” said Mr. Bay ; “ and now I will certainly come 
very soon, if it is only to see little Paul. But you can tell me 
something about him. Is he a sensitive child?” 

“ Yes,” replied the captain, “ very sensitive indeed. He is too 
sensitive.” 

“Is he easily alarmed ?” asked Mr. Bay. 

“ In some things he is very easily alarmed,” answered the cap- 
tain, “and in other things he has as much courage and fortitude 
as any boy I ever knew.” 

“ Should you think it would frighten him much to know that 
he was dangerously sick ?” asked Mr. Bay. 

“ I am not sure,” said the captain, “ but I rather think it 
would not.” 

Mr. Bay and the captain talked in this way for some time in 
respect to Paul, and during the conversation the captain explained 
how conscientious and faithful the little fellow was in all his du- 


90 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


Mr. Ray gives his opinion. 

ties, how patient in bearing pain, how submissive to the will of 
his father and mother, how much interested he was in the devo- 
tional services which he observed morning and evening with his 
mother, and how much peace of mind and spiritual comfort he 
seemed to derive from them. After having thus obtained a full 
view of the case, Mr. Ray said that in his opinion it was not best 
to say any thing to him about the danger that he would not get 
well. 

“ I don’t see that it can do any good to tell him,” said Mr. Ray, 
“ and it might do some harm. The only object that we can have 
in informing sick persons that they are soon to die, except in cases 
where there are reasons of a business nature for it, is to promote 
their preparation for death, and I am inclined to think that this 
object almost always fails. In fact, I should be inclined to think, 
from my observation and experience, that there is more hope of 
bringing a person to repentance of sin, and to the love of God, 
when he is well and expects to live, than when he is sick and 
expects to die. I have known a great many persons permanently 
changed in character when in health, but I scarcely ever knew 
one who seemed to be brought to repentance by the near approach 
of death, that did not relapse to his former character if he chanced 
to get well again. 

“ But, after all,” continued Mr. Ray, “ that principle, whether 
true or not, does not seem to apply in this case, for from your ac- 
count of the matter little Paul’s preparation for death is already 
made.” 

“ Yes,” rejoined the captain, “ I verily believe it is.” 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


91 


The captain concurs with Mr. Kay in his opinion. 


“I think it is, myself,” said Mr. Ray, “and in such a case as 
that, I am pretty well convinced that we ought to conform in our 
treatment of our children to the plan which God adopts generally 
in respect to us all. He conceals from man the day of his death. 
That is the settled policy of nature and of Providence. We can 
see very good reasons for it too. There may be — indeed, there cer- 
tainly are some special cases which make exceptions, but in or- 
dinary cases it is only officiousness in us to be too eager to lift 
the veil from, and try to show what our Father in Heaven ob- 
viously intends should be concealed.” 

“ That is just the feeling that I had,” said the captain, “ but I 
did not know how to put it into words.” 

“ I would not do or say any thing to deceive the boy,” contin- 
ued Mr. Ray. “ Be very careful not to say any thing that will 
imply that you think he will get well. That would not be hon- 
est. The best state of mind for him to be in is to be wholly un- 
certain whether he is to live or die, and to be willing to leave the 
question entirely in God’s hands, without even desiring to know 
himself how it is to be decided.” 

4 6 Yes,” said the captain, “ I have no doubt that you are right ; 
and that is the course that I will take with him.” 

“ But I shall want to come up and see him,” said Mr. Ray. 
“ I should like to talk with him a little. If I could have half an 
hour’s conversation with him, I could make up my mind with 
more confidence in respect to what it is best to do.” 

The captain was very much pleased with this proposal, and he 
invited Mr. Ray to come down to the steam-boat and take pas- 


92 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


Mr. Ray pays Paul a visit. 


sage with him up the river that very afternoon ; but Mr. Ray had 
engagements that day, so that he could not accept this invitation, 
but he promised to go up with the captain in a very few days. 

“ I’ll go up with you next Monday,” said he. 

Accordingly, the next Monday, Mr. Ray appeared on board the 
steamer just before the hour of sailing, and went up the river. 
Paul, who had heard of his coming, expected him, and was very 
glad to see him. Mr. Ray went into Paul’s bed-room, where Paul 
was lying on his bed, having become tired with the excursions 
that he had made during that day, and then had a long talk with 
him. He was so kind in this conversation, and took such an in- 
terest in every thing that interested Paul, and was, withal, so 
cheerful in his tone and manner of speaking, that Paul enjoyed 
the interview very much. Finally he rose to go away, saying at 
the same time, 

“ I must go now. I am afraid I have tired you, talking with 
you so long.” 

“ Oh no, sir,” said Paul, “ you have not tired me at all ; and I 
wish you would move up here and be our minister, and then you 
could come and see me every day.” 

“ Ah !” said Mr. Ray, “ I wish I could come and see you every 
day.” 

“ I wish so too,” said Paul. 

“ I should like to come and see you every evening,” said Mr. 
Ray, “ and have a good time talking with you. You see, I don’t 
think you are to be pitied at all. I suppose some people pity you 
when they see how sick and helpless you are?” 


THE MINISTER’S OPINION. 


93 


Conversation with Paul. Mr. Ray’s advice. 

“Yes, sir, they do,” said Paul. 

“Y don’t feel like pitying you at all,” said Mr. Ray. “You are 
as happy now, and as sure of happiness to come, as any body I 
know, whether you get well or not.” 

“Perhaps I shall not get well,” said Paul. 

“ True,” said Mr. Ray ; “ but, if I were you, I would not think 
or care any thing about that. Live near to God all the time, and 
trust to J esus for the forgiveness of all your sins. If you do that, 
God will take care of you. Leave the future entirely to him, and 
be as happy as you can from day to day.” 

“ I do have a pretty good time,” said Paul. “ I like my loco- 
motive very much indeed.” 

So Mr. Ray bade Paul good-by. The iiext morning, when he 
was going down the river again in ther steam-boat, he told Captain 
Bronx that he was fully confirmed in the opinion which he had 
expressed before, that it would not be best to say any thing to 
Paul about his approaching death. 

“ I am sure that he is prepared,” said Mr. Ray. “ At least, if 
he is not a child of God and an heir of heaven, I don’t know where 
one will be found. I do not know what effect a formal announce- 
ment that he is soon to die might have upon his excitable imag- 
ination and his sensitive nervous system. It might be injurious, 
and I am sure it could do no good ; for if he knew the very day 
and hour when his death would come, he could do nothing more 
or better to prepare for it than he is doing now. If he were my 
boy, I should feel well convinced that his future happiness was se- 
cure, and I should just try to amuse his mind, and make him as 


94 


THE BONFIRE. 


Paul receives a visit from his playmates. 


happy as possible with such pleasures as are adapted to his years, 
and are within his reach while he remains here.” 

“That’s what I will do,” said Captain Bronx. 

So the captain concluded to say nothing at all to Paul about 
his danger ; while Paul, on the other hand, who knew all about it 
from the doctor, was endeavoring to conceal it from his father. 
Each was afraid of distressing the other. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE BONFIRE. 

One morning, in the latter part of May, Charles and Lucy Or- 
mond came to make Paul a visit. Their mother came with them. 
Mrs. Ormond went into the little back parlor to see and talk with 
Mrs. Bronx, leaving the children to amuse themselves with Paul. 

“We want to see your locomotive,” said Lucy. 

“ Yes,” said Charles, “ let us see the locomotive the first thing.” 

“Very well,” said Paul; “then I will ring my bell.” 

Paul had a small bell, which was kept upon a shelf in a back 
entry. The ringing of this bell upon the piazza was a signal for 
Phelim to come, and there was a particular way of ringing it to 
denote that he was to bring the locomotive with him. 

“I’ll ring for the locomotive,” said Paul. 

So saying, Paul proceeded to ring for the locomotive. 

“ Is that the way you ring for the locomotive?” asked Lucy. 

“Yes,” replied Paul. 


THE BONFIRE. 


95 


The three children go out together. 


“And how does Phelim know what you mean by it?” asked 
Lucy. 

“ The doctor contrived the way one day when he came to see 
me,” said Paul, “and he explained it to Phelim.” 

“ I don’t like to have doctors come and see me,” said Lucy. 

“You would like my doctor, Pm very sure,” replied Paul. 

Just at this moment Phelim was seen coming into view, push- 
ing the locomotive before him. Paul, who, not being able to stand 
long at a time on account of the weakness of his limbs, had taken 
a seat upon the step of the door, called to Phelim to bring the loco- 
motive up upon the piazza, so as to let Charles and Lucy see how 
well it would come up a step. 

Phelim did so, and then Paul proposed that Lucy should get 
in and have the first ride. 

“Oh no,” said Lucy, “you must ride, for we can walk.” 

“But I can walk a little way,” said Paul; “ and I want you 
to try my locomotive.” 

“ Well,” said Lucy, looking pleased. “ But first let him push 
it down off the piazza.” 

“Oh no,” said Paul, “ I want you to ride down off the piazza, 
so as to see how nicely it will go down a step as well as come 
up.” 

“But it will jolt me,” said Lucy. “I should be afraid to go 
over such a big jolt.” 

“It will not jolt you at all,” said Paul. “If you try it you 
will see.” 

So Lucy mounted into the locomotive, and Phelim pushed her 


96 


THE BONFIRE. 


Experiments with the locomotive. 


Lucy’s pleasure. 


down off the piazza. It proved, as Paul had said, that there was 
no jolt at all, notwithstanding that the step was pretty high. 

The reason why there was no jolt was that the front wheel, ex- 
tending as it did far forward, reached the ground and sustained 
the weight of the carriage while Phelim gradually eased down the 
hind wheels. Lucy was much surprised at the effect. She look- 
ed half alarmed when the carriage began to descend, and seemed 
to shrink back, as if from fear ; but when she found how gently 
Phelim brought her down, she was very much pleased, and want- 
ed him to do it again. 

After going up and down the piazza two or three times, Phelim 
propelled Lucy a little way round the yard. Lucy liked her ride 
very much indeed. She said she verily believed that to be sick 
and have such a locomotive was better than to be well and be 
able to walk. 

It was then Charles’s turn to ride, and so Lucy got out and 
Charles got in. Phelim gave Charles a good ride too, not only 
pushing him all about the yard, but taking him several times up 
and down the step of the piazza. 

At last, when both Lucy and Charles were satisfied with their 
trials of the locomotive, they helped Paul to get in, and then the 
whole party set off on an excursion. 

“Let us go into the woods,” said Lucy. 

“Very well,” said Paul. “Push me toward the back gate, 
Phelim.” 

So Phelim pushed away to the back gate, and Charles held the 
gate open while the locomotive went through. 


THE BONFIRE. 


97 


The paths. The waterfall. Foam and hubbies. 

There were a number of good broad and smooth paths leading 
about the woods. Captain Bronx had caused them to be made 
on purpose for the locomotive. By means of these paths Paul 
could travel about under the trees, and along the banks of the 
brook in all directions. 

There was a brook and a waterfall in these woods, but the lo- 
comotive could not go very near to the waterfall, on account of 
the path being too steep, and stony, and narrow there. Some- 
times, when the doctor went out with Paul on his excursions, he 
used to carry him down to the waterfall. Indeed, Paul could walk 
down himself, though it was difficult, and not very safe for him 
to do so. 

When Phelim came with the locomotive to the place in the 
good path where the waterfall could be seen, Lucy uttered an ex- 
clamation of surprise and delight. 

“ Oh, what a beautiful brook !” said she ; “ so white and foam- 
ing.” 

“ Yes,” said Paul ; “ that is because it tumbles over the rocks.” 

“ I don’t see why it should make water white to tumble over 
such black rocks,” said Lucy. 

“ I know the reason why,” replied Paul ; “ my doctor explain- 
ed it to me. He says that, in tumbling over the rocks, the water 
breaks, and makes millions of little bubbles, and these bubbles re- 
flect the light in such a way that the foam of them looks white.” 

“Let’s go down there and see the little bubbles,” said Lucy. 

“You and Charles can go,” replied Paul, “but my locomotive 
can’t go down there very well ; it is too steep.” 

36 G 


98 


THE BONFIRE. 


Paul will not act contrary to the wishes of his mother. 

44 Could not you get out and walk down ?” asked Charles. 
“We will help you.” 

“Yes, I suppose I could,” replied Paul, “and I should like to 
go very much ; but my mother does not like to have me go down 
there among the rocks.” 

“Did she say that you must not go?” asked Lucy. 

“ No,” replied Paul, “ she does not say I must not, but she 
does not like to have me go. She is afraid that I shall get hurt.” 

“ I should think you might go,” suggested Charles, “ if she did 
not say positively that you must not.” 

“No,” said Paul, “I must not do any thing that I know she 
would rather I would not do. The Bible says, 4 Honor thy father 
and thy mother.’ ” 

“ And does that mean that we must not do any thing that they 
would rather not have us do ?” asked Charles. 

“I suppose so,” said Paul, “or something like that.” 

“ I know the rest of it,” said Charles. “ 4 That thy days may 
be long in the land that the Lord thy God giveth thee.’ What 
does that mean?” 

44 Why, it means,” said Lucy, “that if you obey your father 
and mother, you will live longer for it.” 

44 1 don’t believe it means that,” said Charles ; 44 do you, Paul ?” 

44 1 don’t know,” said Paul, looking quite thoughtful as he 
spoke. 

“Do you really suppose, now,” asked Charles, “that you will 
live any longer for such a thing as that ?” 

Paul seemed at a loss to know what to reply to this question. 


THE BONFIRE. 


99 


The children form a plan for burning the wigwam. 


“Why, yes,” said Lucy; “for, if he were to go down there 
among the rocks, he might fall in the water and get drowned.” 

Just at this time Charles happened to see the old wigwam 
which had been built for Paul some time before, and he asked 
what it was. 

“Ah! that is my old wigwam,” said Paul. “It was a very 
pretty place when it was fresh and green, but now it is dried up, 
and good for nothing. I am going to make a bonfire of it one of 
these days.” 

“ I wish you would make a bonfire of it now,” said Charles. 

“Yes, Paul,” added Lucy, “let us make a bonfire of it now.” 

Paul readily acceded to this proposal. He said he would like 
to burn his wigwam then as well as any time. 

“That is,” continued he, “if mother is willing. You can go 
in, Phelim, and see. If she says ‘Yes,’ we will set it on fire.” 

Phelim accordingly left the locomotive, and set out to go to 
the house. He had not gone far before Charles called out to him, 
saying, 

“ If she says yes, Phelim, bring out some matches.” 

“No,” said Paul, “that is not necessary. I have got some 
matches here in my baggage-box.” 

So saying, Paul opened the lid of his baggage-box, and took 
out a small tin box containing matches, and then Charles and 
Lucy began to push the locomotive along toward the wigwam. 

“You must not push me too near,” said Paul, “for I am sure 
my mother would not be willing to have me go very near while 
the wigwam was burning.” 


100 


THE BONFIRE. 


Paul gives warning to the grasshoppers and millers. 


So the children stopped pushing when they had got the loco- 
motive sufficiently near. In a few minutes Phelim returned. He 
said that Mrs. Bronx was willing that they should burn the wig- 
wam, provided that Paul himself, and also both the other children, 
kept at a safe distance. 

“ She says,” added Phelim, “ that if any of you are too near, a 
spark might alight upon your clothes, and set them on fire.” 

“ Then we won’t go near at all,” said Paul. “You may take 
the match-box, Phelim, and go and set the wigwam on fire. But 
first strike it with a stick a little, here and there.” 

“ What is that for ?” asked Charles. 

“So as to drive all the little grasshoppers and millers out of 
the way,” said Paul. “If we don’t do that they will all get 
burned up.” 

So Phelim, after first beating the roof of the wigwam with a 
stick sufficiently to give notice to quit to such inhabitants as it 
might contain, lighted a match and set the roof on fire. 

The branches of trees, by means of which the roof was formed, 
and all the foliage which was upon them, were perfectly dry, so that 
the whole mass was exceedingly inflammable. The fire spread 
with great rapidity. At first, however, there was not much flame 
seen, but only smoke, for Phelim lighted the branches on the un- 
der side of the roof, and for a time only dense volumes of smoke 
appeared. Very soon the flames began to burst forth, and, with 
great snapping and crackling, ascended high into the air. 

“ What a crackling!” exclaimed Lucy. 

“ Yes,” said Paul ; “ but they would crackle a great deal more 


the bonfire 










102 


THE BONFIRE. 


The hatchet. 


Crackling of the hemlock branches. 


if the branches were green, and if they were hemlock. Nothing 
makes such a crackling as green hemlock branches.” 

“ I mean to get one and put it on,” said Charles. 

“No,” said Paul, “for you must not go so near. Phelim will 
do it.” 

“Yes, Master Paul,” said Phelim, “I will do it.” 

“ Come here and get the hatchet,” said Paul. 

Paul had. a hatchet, which he carried usually in a little socket 
that was fitted for it in the side of his baggage-box. Phelim came 
and took this hatchet, and with it he cut some hemlock branches, 
and put them on the fire. The crackling that they made was 
wonderful to hear. 

“ What makes them crackle so ?” asked Charles. 

“ I don’t know,” said Paul ; “ but they always do.” 

“ If I could go up to the fire,” said Charles, “ and look close 
down to them while they are burning, don’t you suppose I could 
find out what makes the crackling ?” 

“ No,” said Paul, “ I don’t believe you could. Besides, you 
must not go so near. But I’ll tell you what we can do. We can 
take a small sprig of hemlock, and carry it into the house, and put 
it upon a hot shovel, and then perhaps we can see.” 

The children immediately resolved to try this experiment, and 
so, after waiting until the bonfire was well burned down, Phelim 
brought them a branch of hemlock, and Paul pulled off some sprigs 
of it and put them into his baggage-box. 

The children had just finished this operation, and were about 
setting out for home, when suddenly Paul heard a voice calling 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


103 


Paul’s cousin comes. Some account of him. 

liim. The voice seemed to come from the direction of the gate 
which stood at the entrance of the woods. 

“ Hark !” exclaimed Paul ; “ who is that ?” 

“ Halloo, Paul !” repeated the voice. 

4 4 It is my cousin William,” said Paul. 

Very soon a young man, about sixteen or seventeen years of 
age, came into view among the trees. This young man was Paul’s 
cousin, and his name was William Learned. 

44 It is my cousin William,” said Paul. 44 Push me out to meet 
him, Phelim.” 

So Phelim pushed the locomotive in the direction toward Will- 
iam, and the other children followed. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE LITTLE CANNON. 

William Learned, as has already been said, was Paul’s cous- 
in. His father and mother resided near the North River, a few 
miles from where Captain Bronx lived. He himself resided at 
this time in New York. He was a clerk in a large auction and 
commission store there. He was much confined by his duties in 
New York during the greater part of the year, but in midsummer 
he usually had about a week of liberty to visit his parents and 
relatives, and to take a little recreation. 

“Ah! Cousin William,” said Paul, as soon as Phelim had 
wheeled him near enough to speak, “ I am glad you have come.” 


104 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


The present which William made Paul of a cannon. 

“Yes,” said William, “I thought I must come and see you 
once more before I go back to New York. I am going to stay 
here to-day and to-night, and go down to-morrow morning in your 
father’s boat.” 

William had stopped to see Paul some days before on his way 
up the river to his father’s. Paul had urged him to come and see 
him again on his way down, and his coming now was in conse- 
quence of that invitation. 

“ See what I have brought you,” said William. 

As he said this, William took out from his pocket a small par- 
cel, tied up securely in brown paper. He untied the string, and 
then opening the paper, he produced a small but beautifully-fin- 
ished brass cannon, mounted on a very pretty carriage. 

“You liked your picture of a cannon so well,” said William, 
“that I thought I would bring you a real one.” 

William referred, in saying this, to a picture of some men mak- 
ing ready to fire a cannon, which he had cut out of some old book 
or magazine, and which he was painting when William had called 
to see him before. Paul had quite a pretty paint-box, and he 
often amused himself with coloring pictures, sometimes taking for 
this purpose pictures which he obtained from books, and some- 
times drawing designs himself with his pencil. 

The picture of the cannon which William referred to represent- 
ed a party of men in a sort of ambuscade behind a rock. In ad- 
dition to the rock there were trees growing there, which helped to 
conceal the men. The men were looking round the point of the rock 
down into the valley, and getting their gun into position to fire. 


THE PICTURE OP THE CANNON 


THE LITTLE CANNON, 


105 


The picture that Paul painted. 




106 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


Paul’s pleasure in receiving tlie cannon is somewhat alloyed. 


Paul was very much pleased with this picture, and with the 
explanations of it which his cousin had given him, and that was 
what put it into William’s head to bring him a real cannon. 

The cannon which he brought was about four inches long, and 
nearly half an inch in calibre or bore. 

Paul was extremely delighted with his cannon when first he re- 
ceived it, but then, after a few minutes, a shade came over his 
mind respecting it. 

“My mother will be sorry to see me have this cannon,” said 
he to himself. “ She will be afraid that I shall want to fire it.” 

But he said nothing aloud. 

“ I have got some powder in my pocket too,” said William, 
“for you to load it with.” 

Paul thanked William very cordially for the present, and, tak- 
ing the cannon and the powder, he put them both away safely in 
his baggage-box. 

He was, on the whole, however, sorry rather than glad to receive 
such a present, for he was quite sure that it would trouble his 
mother. 

“ Even if I tell her that I shall not want to fire it,” said Paul 
to himself, “ she will be afraid that some other boys will come to 
see me, and that they will most likely .want to fire it ; and then 
she will be afraid to have them do it, and yet she will not like to 
say no.” 

But, though Paul was thus not at all glad to receive the present 
of the cannon, he thought it would be impolite to his cousin not 
to seem glad, and so he did not know exactly what to do. 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


107 


Some farther account of William. 

“ Aunt Maria will be willing to let you fire your cannon, won’t 
she ?” asked William, as the party drew nigh the house. 

“I rather think,” replied Paul, in a hesitating manner, “that 
she will be afraid.” 

“ Hoh !” exclaimed William, “ she need not be afraid. It is a 
very strong cannon. I think she will be willing to have you fire 
it. I’ll ask her myself.” 

William was a very active and energetic sort of boy, and these 
qualities made him very successful in business in New York. The 
same activity and energy manifested itself also when he was in 
'the country, and thus sometimes produced some inconvenience at 
home, or at the places where he was visiting. He was continual- 
ly getting up all sorts of new plays and amusements. He would 
plan parties, and contrive excursions, and arrange games of vari- 
ous kinds, all of which amused the children a great deal ; but 
sometimes, through William’s ardor and impetuosity in carrying 
them into effect, they occasioned a good deal of trouble to the 
parents. 

William was never at all bashful about proposing any of the 
plans that he formed, or about asking for any thing that was re- 
quired in carrying them into execution. And when he perceived 
that Paul had some doubts in respect to his mother’s giving her 
consent to the firing of the cannon, he at once volunteered to ob- 
tain her consent himself. 

“ I’ll ask her,” said he, “ and I can make her say ‘Yes. Never 
you fear.” 

This was exactly what Paul did not desire. He knew very 


108 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


Lucy begins to be anxious about the cannon. 


well that his mother would not like to have him fire the cannon, 
and, at the same time, that it would be painful for her to refuse 
her consent if she supposed that he wished to fire it. He was 
very unwilling to place her in this dilemma, and yet he did not 
see exactly what he ought to do. 

In the mean time the whole party proceeded toward the house. 
The Ormond children said it was time for them to go home. 

“ Oh no,” said Paul, “you need not go home yet.” 

“ Yes,” replied Lucy, speaking in a very earnest and positive 
manner, “ we must go home now. Our mother will be anxious 
about us if we stay any longer.” 

Indeed, Lucy seemed quite in a hurry to go away. The fact 
was, she was afraid of the cannon. It is true that nothing had yet 
been said about firing it ; still she was afraid, and, as soon as she 
came out from the woods into the yard, she began to turn off into 
the path that led toward the road, drawing Charles after her, and 
saying, “ Come, Charles.” 

“Ho,” said William, “you must not go just yet. You must 
wait till I see Aunt Maria.” 

William always called Paul’s mother Aunt Maria. 

“You see,” continued William, “I am going to have an auc- 
tion sale here this evening, if Aunt Maria is willing, and I want 
you to come and be part of the company. I am going to have a 
large invoice of goods for sale. You must come in and wait till I 
ask Aunt Maria about it.” 

“ But we have not got any money to buy the things with,” said 
Charles. 


THE LITTLE CANNON. 


109 


William describes his plan for an auction. 


“ Oh, that’s no matter,” replied William ; “ I shall have a hank. 
You will get your money at the hank. All the company will he 
stockholders, and they will get their dividends.” 

This language was far too technical for the children to compre- 
hend it fully. They, however, got the general idea that there was 
to be some sort of play sale, and that the money would be pro- 
vided for the purchasers from some sort of play hank. Lucy and 
Charles both thought that they would like very much to come, 
though Lucy was still somewhat in awe of the cannon. 

“We shall want about eight or ten children to make a good 
company at the auction,” said William. “ You see, unless there 
is a good company, there’s never any spirit in the bidding. We 
can find eight or ten that live about here, can’t we ?” 

“ Oh yes,” said Paul. 

“You see, you three make three,” continued William, “and 
that leaves only seven more to drum up.” 

William’s talking about “ drumming up” the company made 
Lucy think of the cannon again, and after hesitating a few min- 
utes, she ventured at length timidly to inquire of William wheth- 
er, in case he had the auction, he should fire off the cannon too 
at the same time. 

“ Why no,” said William. “You see, the auction itself will be 
as much as we can attend to this evening. We shall have to fire 
off the cannon before. So, if you wish to hear it, you must come 
this afternoon.” 

“ Very well,” said Lucy ; “ if we wish to hear it, we will.” 

By this time the whole party had arrived at the back piazza. 


110 


TUE LITTLE CANNON. 


Paul shows the cannon to his mother. 


William went in at once to find his Aunt Maria, and to ask her 
consent, that he should have an auction. She gave her consent at 
once, without hesitation ; so Charles and Lucy were invited to 
come. They were also intrusted with invitations to some other 
children that lived in their neighborhood. The time appointed 
was six o’clock. The auction, William said, would take about an 
hour, and that would allow all the company to get their purchases 
home before dark. 

Things being thus arranged, Charles and Lucy set out on their 
return home, while William went off into the parlor to see if he 
could find the right sort of a table to display the goods upon at 
the auction. 

As soon as he was gone, Paul opened his baggage-box, and took 
out the cannon and the powder which William had given him, 
and showed them to his mother. 

“ See, mother,” said he, “ William has given me this cannon ; 
and in this paper is some powder.” 

“ It is a beautiful cannon, certainly,” said his mother. 

“ You may take all the powder, mother, and put it away,” said 
P^ul, 4 6 and then you will know that I am not firing the cannon ; 
and if it will trouble you at all for me to keep the cannon, you 
may put that away too.” 

Nothing fills a mother’s heart with so much joy as to find that 
her child is considerate and careful in respect to her happiness, 
and especially to find that he is willing to deprive himself of 
pleasure rather than to give her pain. 

Mrs. Bronx kissed Paul, and her heart was so full of gratitude 


PROVING THE CANNON. 


Ill 




Preparations for the auction. The extension-tahle. 

and affection toward him that the tears almost came into her eyes. 
She took the powder to put away, but she said she was perfectly 
willing that he should keep the cannon. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

PROVING THE CANNON. 

Paul went into the parlor with the cannon in his hand. He 
found William at work examining the tables. 

“ Can you find a table that will do ?” asked Paul. 

“None of these will do,” said William. “We want a table 
large enough for ten, so that each one may have a good place. 
The extension-table in the dining-room will do, if Aunt Maria 
will let us have it.” 

“ She will let us have it, I am sure,” said Paul ; “ only it is too 
heavy to move in here.” 

“ Then we will go and have our auction in the dining-room,” 
said William. “ That will do just as well.” 

Mrs. Bronx came into the room in the midst of this discussiop, 
and she consented at once that the dining-table might be used for 
the auction. 

“ Only we shall want all the leaves in,” said William. 

“ Very well,” replied Mrs. Bronx. “ Rose and Phelim will put 
them in for you. What time would you like to have the table 
ready ?” 

“Why, Aunt Maria,” said William, “it ought to be ready 


112 


PJROVINGr THE CANNON. 


William completes his arrangements. 


about six o’clock, because you see the auction is to begin at seven, 
and I have got all the goods to arrange.” 

“Very well,” said Mrs. Bronx, “it shall be ready punctually 
at six o’clock.” 

“In the mean time,” said William, “I have got to go to town 
and see about getting some more goods. I shall not be back to 
dinner. I suppose I shall come back about two o’clock. Then 
I’ll show Paul how to fire his little cannon. After that there 
will be time enough to make ready for the auction. We shall 
have all the bank-bills to fill up and sign, and the dividend checks 
to draw.” 

William said this with the air of a man of business, who had 
so many engagements on his hands as to be much pressed for 
time, and then taking his cap, and bidding his aunt and cousin 
good-morning, he went away. 

As soon as he had gone, Paul went to a sofa, and, taking a seat 
there, he reclined his head upon the arm of it, looking quite fa- 
tigued. The truth was, he had exerted himself somewhat too long. 
The excitement produced by William’s conversation had kept him 
up thus far, but now he felt wellnigh exhausted. 

“Ah! my poor boy,” said his mother, “you are getting very 
tired. You shall lie down a little while. I’ll carry you into your 
bed-room.” 

So his mother went to him, and, taking him up in her arms, 
she carried him out into a little bed-room where he was accus- 
tomed to sleep. There was a window in the bed-room which 
opened upon a pretty green yard. Mrs. Bronx took off Paul’s 


PROVING THE CANNON. 


113 


Paul eats his dinner, and then lies down. 


shoes and stockings, and loosened his dress, and then laid him 
down upon his bed. 

“Mother,” said Paul, “I am a little hungry. Could you let 
me have some Bread and milk before I go to sleep ?” 

“ Certainly,” said his mother ; “ and would you like some 
baked apples in the milk?” 

Paul said that he should like the baked apples very much in- 
deed. So his mother brought in the milk, and the bread, and the 
baked apples, and put them all on a low table, which had been 
made expressly for Paul’s use. She then took Paul off the bed, 
and set him in a little arm-chair by the side of the table. Paul 
ate his bread and milk, and baked apples, and seemed to like them 
very much. 

His mother then put him upon the bed again. Before he went 
to sleep, however, he asked her to give him his cannon, and he 
put it upon the bed in a place where he could see it as long as his 
eyes were open. His eyes did not, however, continue open long. 
In a very few minutes after his mother left him he was sound 
asleep. 

When at length, about two hours afterward, Paul came to him- 
self and opened his eyes, he saw the doctor sitting by the side of 
his bed. 

“ Ah ! doctor,” said Paul, “ I did not know that you were 
here, or else I should have waked up sooner. I am glad you 
have come. I want you to see my cannon.” 

“How do you feel to-day?” asked the doctor. 

36 H 


114 


PROVING THE CANNON. 


Conversation with the doctor when he wakes up. 


“ I feel better,” said Paul. “ I feel a great deal better, es- 
pecially since I have been asleep.” 

Paul then reached out his hand to his cannon, which lay all the 
time upon the counterpane where he had placed ft, and, taking it 
up, he said, 

“ See, doctor! Look at my new cannon!” 

The doctor took the cannon into his hand and began to examine 
it with great attention. 

Just at that moment, Mrs. Bronx, having heard Paul’s voice, 
and knowing in that way that he was awake, came into the room. 

“Ah ! doctor,” said she, “ I am glad to see you looking at that 
cannon. William is coming back pretty soon, and he says he is 
going to fire it. Do you think it is safe ?” 

The doctor, instead of answering immediately, began to exam- 
ine the cannon more attentively than ever. 

“ It seems to be very well made,” said he ; “ indeed, it is quite 
a finished piece of workmanship — gun, carriage, and all. What 
nicely-made wheels! They have hubs, and regular spokes, and 
iron tires, just like real wheels.” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Bronx, “ I see it is very nicely made ; but do 
you think it would be safe for the boys to fire it ?” 

“I rather think it is strong enough,” said the doctor. “The 
barrel is pretty thick and solid. I have no doubt it is strong 
enough, unless there is some secret flaw in the casting. I won- 
der whether they prove these little cannon barrels before selling 
them.” 

“ What do you mean by proving them ?” asked Paul. 


PJROVING THE CANNON. 


115 


Account of the proving of musket barrels. 

“ Why, it is the custom,” replied the doctor, 44 to prove musket 
barrels before they are finished for use, and I did not know but 
they did so with these little cannons.” 

44 How do they prove them ?” asked Paul. 

44 Oh, they load them very heavily,” said the doctor. 44 They 
put in two or three times as much powder as they will require 
when the guns are in use, and ram the powder down very hard. 
Then they fire the barrels off, and if they don’t burst under this 
trial, they conclude that they will not burst afterward with a 
smaller quantity of gunpowder.” 

44 But then suppose they burst when they are trying them?” 
suggested Mrs. Bronx. 

44 That does no harm,” replied the doctor ; 44 for when they prove 
them they put them in a place where they can not do any injury, 
even if they fly all to pieces.” 

44 Only, of course, those that burst are spoiled,” said Paul. 

44 Certainly,” said the doctor; 44 and the makers of them have 
to lose them. They can only use them for old iron.” 

44 1 should not think they would like to load them so heavy as 
to make so many of them burst,” said Paul. 

“Perhaps they do not,” replied the doctor; “but the govern- 
ment compel them to do it. At least this is the case in England. 
The gun-makers can not sell their guns unless they have been 
proved in this way, and every barrel stamped.” 

44 What makes some of them burst and others not?” asked Paul. 

44 1 suppose it is some secret flaw in the iron, or in the joining 
where they are welded,” replied the doctor. 


116 


PROVING THE CANNON 


View of the interior of the proving-house. 



THE WAY THEY PEOVE THE I3AEBELS. 


PROVING TIIE CANNON. 


117 


Description of the interior of the proving-house. 


“ What sort of a place is it ?” asked Paul. 

“It is a very strong place indeed,” replied the doctor. “It is 
a small house, built very solid. The walls and the roof are made 
of timbers. They put the barrels in this room, a great many of 
them together, and lay a train to fire them by. The train comes 
out through a hole in the wall. 

On the opposite page you see a picture of a room where they 
prove musket barrels. The barrels that are to be proved are 
placed in a row, on a sort of stand, on one side. On the other 
side is a sloping bank of sand or clay for the bullets to go into. 

See how many barrels there are ! All these are to be proved 
together. They are all loaded, and there is a train of gunpowder 
laid which connects with all of them. The train is laid in a 
groove which passes behind the barrels. The end of the train 
passes out through a hole in the wall, so that the man can fire it 
on the outside. You can see this hole in the picture. 

The man is just going out at the door. See how thick and 
solid the door is ! As soon as he has shut the door he will fire 
the train. 

On the next page you will see a picture of the outside of this 
proving-house, which will show you how strong it is built. It 
is necessary to make it strong and solid, for generally, when they 
are proving the gun-barrels in this way, there are almost always 
some that fly to pieces. 

The lattice-work on the roof of the building is to let the smoke 
out after the barrels are fired. There is a door in the side also, 
too high for any person to go in or out of it, which is used for 


118 


PROVING THE CANNON. 


Picture of the exterior of the proving-house. 






PROVING THE CANNON. 


119 


Proving the barrels. The doctor on the great Northwestern Railway. 

the same purpose. The door where the man went out is round 
upon the other side. 

After the doctor had explained all this, Paul asked him if he 
ever saw them prove barrels in this way. 

“No,” said the doctor, “I never saw them, of course. It is 
not possible to see them, for the barrels, when they are fired, are 
shut up in a dark room.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul ; “ but then the firing of the powder must 
make a great flash of light.” 

“ True,” said the doctor; “but there can not be any body in 
the room to see it. I heard them proving barrels so once. It 
was in Birmingham, in England.” 

“ Tell us about it,” said Paul. 

“ I was coming in from London, in the down train,” replied 
the doctor, “ on the great Northwestern Railway. That is the 
greatest line in the world. We stopped just before we reached 
the station for the conductor to collect his tickets, as the fashion 
is in England.” 

“ What do they stop for to collect th& tickets ?” asked Paul. 

“Why, you see,” replied the doctor, “the railway carriages 
in England are different from our cars. Each carriage is separ- 
ate, and has its own separate doors on the sides ; and so, when 
they wish to collect the tickets, they stop the train a moment, 
and the conductor walks along from carriage to carriage on the 
platform.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul, “I understand it now.” 

“A moment after we stopped,” continued the doctor, “sudden- 


120 


PEOVING THE CANNON. 


The doctor proposes to Paul to prove his cannon. 


ly I lieard a very loud and tearing report, as if the boilers of half 
a dozen locomotives had burst at the station, and had blown the 
pieces high into the air. I started up, and I suppose I looked 
somewhat frightened, for a gentleman who was sitting near mer 
said in explanation, ‘ It is proving the musket barrels, sir, in the 
proving-house.’ 

“Now, whether your cannon has been proved or not, I can not 
tell,” added the doctor. 

“I am afraid it has not been,” said Mrs. Bronx ; “ and in that 
case, if there should be some hidden flaw, as you suggested just 
now, it would be very dangerous for the children to fire it.” 

“Yes, sir,” added Paul; “and what do you think we had bet- 
ter do ?” 

“Perhaps you had better prove it yourselves,” said the doctor. 
“You can make a proving-house for it out of planks and pieces 
of wood.” 

“ That’s what we will do !” exclaimed Paul, clapping his hands. 
“William will like that, I am very sure.” 

“ Or else,” continued the doctor, “ if you wish to make it per- 
fectly certain that your cannon will never do any mischief, you 
can spike it.” 

“ Spike it ?” asked Paul. “ How ?” 

“ They always spike guns when they wish to disable them,” 
said the doctor. “ They do it by driving a nail, or a bit of round 
file, into the touch-hole. That fills up the touch-hole, so that the 
gun can not be fired again.” 

“But can’t they get the nail out?” asked Paul. 


PROVING THE CANNON. 


121 


The proving-house. The experiment is successful. 

“ The only way is to bore it out,” said the doctor, “ if it is put 
in properly, and that makes a great deal of trouble.” 

Very soon after this the doctor went away, and soon after he 
had gone William returned. William was very much pleased 
with the idea of proving the cannon. 

“Yes,” said he, “yes, that will be an excellent plan, for by 
that means I can put in a double load.” 

So William loaded the cannon by putting in a double charge 
of powder, and then ramming in several wads, one after another, 
and driving them home as hard as possible. When he had done 
the cannon was nearly full. He then built the proving-house. 
He built it of short pieces of planks and joists which Phelim 
brought out for the purpose. He placed two pieces of joist for 
the sides, standing them up on their edges, and one across at the 
end for the back. Then he put the cannon inside, and laid the 
train. Finally, he laid a piece of plank across the top for a roof, 
and put a large stone upon it to keep it down. 

The place where the proving-house was built was on the bank 
of the river, in front of the house, where Paul, sitting on the piaz- 
za, could easily see it. When all was ready, William fired the 
train, and the cannon went off with a prodigious report. The 
proving-house was filled with smoke. William rolled off the 
stone, and lifted up the plank, and took up the cannon, which he 
found to be entirely unharmed. He brought it to the piazza in 
triumph, and showed it to Paul and to his mother. 

I forgot to say that when he put the cannon into the proving- 
house he had taken the precaution to place some bits of old car- 


122 


THE AUCTION. 


Paul’s considerateness for his mother. Preparing for the auction. 

peting behind it, in order to prevent the carriage being injured by 
the recoil. 

After this, William loaded the cannon twice in a proper man- 
ner, and fired it in the open air. Paul was quite pleased, on his 
own account, to hear the reports, but his pleasure was greatly di- 
minished by the thought that his mother must necessarily be 
anxious and uneasy all the time. 

He was glad, on the whole, when William stopped firing. He 
took the cannon and the powder which was left, and delivered 
them to his mother, saying at the same time, 

“ Here, mother ; and you will see that I shall take care not to 
let them trouble you any more.” 


CHAPTER XY. 

THE AUCTION. 

About six o’clock William went out into the dining-room with 
Paul, and they found the table ready. Rose had put in all the 
leaves, so that there was ample room for the ten persons that they 
expected would form the company. 

William brought quite a number of parcels, tied up' in brown 
paper, and placed them on the table. Just then Paul heard some 
voices out upon the piazza, and he went to the window to look out. 

“Ah! William,” said he, “here come three of the boys.” 

“ I am glad of it,” said William. “ We want some fellows to 
help us open and arrange the goods.” 


THE AUCTION. 


123 


Frederick, George, and Jeremiah. William’s directions. Choosing a clerk. 


The door opened and the boys came in. Their names were 
Frederick, George, and Jeremiah. Frederick was a pretty tall 
boy, but quiet and still. Jeremiah was very lively and talk- 
ative. George was smaller. 

As soon as the boys came in, William said to them that he 
should want their help. They all replied that they were willing 
to help. William said that he should want them to open the 
cases of goods ; so they came to the table and began to look at 
the packages, but their attention was soon diverted from them to 
Paul, who commenced giving an account of the firing of his 
cannon. 

William went into the entry to get a package which he had 
left there, but almost immediately came back again. 

“Come, youngsters!” said he, “look alive, and open these 
goods. Untie all the strings, and when you have unwound them, 
put them all together on the corner of the table, here ; and the 
papers, when you have unfolded them, spread out smooth on this 
other corner of the table, here. I don’t want any litter about my 
premises.” 

So the boys went to work opening the packages. Some of the 
parcels contained candy, some toys, and some sugar-plums. There 
were one or two flat parcels that contained quite a number of 
small pictures, which William had cut out of old newspapers and 
magazines. 

“ And now let me see,” added William. “ I must have a clerk 
to help me at the sale. The clerk will have to take the money 
and make change. Who shall I have for clerk ?” 


124 


THE AUCTION. 


The cashier of the bank and the clerk of the sales. 


The cashier’s duties. 


“Me!” said Jeremiah. “Me! Have me!” 

“ Can you reckon change fast,” asked William, “ and not make 
mistakes ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Jeremiah ; “ I won’t make any mistakes at all.” 

“ Then I shall want a bank cashier, to keep the specie and pay 
the dividends,” added William. 

“ Let me be bank cashier,” said J eremiah. 

“You can’t be both,” replied William. “You shall be cashier 
of the bank, and Frederick shall be clerk of the sales.” 

So saying, William designated two places at the table, at one of 
which the clerk was to sit, and at the other the cashier. Jere- 
miah took his seat eagerly at the place which William pointed out 
to him, and began to ask what he was to do. 

William was busy placing Frederick, and he did not answer 
Jeremiah’s question. 

“William!” said Jeremiah, “ William ! what am I to do?” 

“ The first thing you have got to attend to is to see that you 
don’t ask me any questions,” replied William. 

“But how shall I know what to do,” rejoined Jeremiah, “un- 
less I ask you ?” 

“ If I don’t tell you what to do,” replied William, “ do noth- 
ing. Never ask me a question. The third time you ask me a 
question I shall turn you out of office, and put another boy in 
your place.” 

So saying, William took out of his pocket four small rolls, with 
colored paper on the outside of them. 

“ What are those ?” asked Jeremiah. 


THE AUCTION. 


125 


Queer money. Counting the funds of the bank. The cashier’s inquisitiveness. 

“ There’s the first question,” said William. 

William then proceeded to open one of the rolls. It was found 
to contain cinnamon lozenges. Indeed, the word cinnamon was 
printed in large type on the outside of the roll. 

“ This is the specie for the bank,” said William. “ I shall tell 
you presently how you are to pay it out. The first thing that 
you have to do is to open all the rolls, and put the lozenges in lit- 
tle piles before you on the table, five in each pile. Each lozenge 
goes for a dime.” 

Jeremiah immediately began to do this work, and he was very 
careful not to speak while he was doing it, for fear lest he should 
ask a question. 

“ I mean to have my seat here near the bank,” said Paul. 

“Very well,” replied William. “You had better let Rose bring 
you in a pretty high chair, so that you can see over all the fable.” 

“Yes,” said Paul, “that’s just what I will do.” 

So Paul went to find Rose, and she brought in a high chair, 
and put it at the corner of the table for him, very near where the 
cashier had established the bank. 

In the mean time William had been in the other room to get 
a pair of scissors, and, now returning, he sat down by the side of 
Paul, and took out some paper from his pocket. There were two 
kinds of paper that he took out. One piece was white, and the 
other was straw color or yellow. 

“ What are you going to do with that paper ?” asked Jeremiah. 

“ That’s the second question,” said William. “ One more, and 
you lose your office.” 


126 


THE AUCTION. 


Paul cuts the paper as directed and makes bank-bills. 


Jeremiah was silent. William began to cut up the white pa- 
per into strips about half an inch wide. After he cut the whole 
piece of paper into such strips, he gave them, and also the scissors, 
to Paul. 

“Now, Paul,” said he, “I want some help from you. Cut 
these strips in half, and then cut each half into halves again.” 

Paul took up one of the strips, and cut it as he had been di- 
rected. The pieces which he made were about three inches long. 
Of course, they were about half an inch wide, that having been 
the width of the strips. 

“These are the bank-bills,” said William. “As fast as you 
get them cut give them to me, and I will write the denominations 
on them.” 

So William took one of the pieces, and wrote upon it the word 
five. 

“ There!” said he, “there is a five-dollar bill.” 

He went on in the same way until he had made ten five-dollar 
bills. He passed these bills to Jeremiah, saying, 

“ Here, Mr. Cashier, keep these bills in your bank until I tell 
you what to do with them ; and look out not to ask any ques- 
tions.” 

William next took another set of Paul’s slips of paper, and made 
ten three - dollar bills by writing the word three on each of them, 
and gave them also to Jeremiah. 

In the same manner he made ten one - dollar bills. 

Lastly, he wrote the figures 50 on ten of the slips. 

“ These are fifty-cent bills,” said he. 


THE AUCTION. 


127 


The fifty-cent bill. 


A dividend. 


Checks. 


“ There is no such thing as a fifty-cent bill,” said Jeremiah. 

“There is in our bank,” replied William. “And now, Mr. 
Cashier, I have given you four kinds of bills. Suppose you give 
a boy one of each kind, how much money shall you pay him ?” 

“ Let us see,” replied the cashier. “ There is a five-dollar bill, 
and a three, which makes eight, and a one, which makes nine, and 
fifty cents, which makes nine and a half. Nine dollars and a 
half.” 

“ Then, if you add one of the piles of lozenges,” said William, 
“that will be fifty cents more — five lozenges, and each of them 
going for a dime.” 

“Yes,” said the cashier. 

“ Very well,” said William. “ Look out, now, and not ask any 
questions. I am going to declare a dividend from the bank of 
ten dollars. I am going to write checks for the dividend on this 
straw-colored paper. When any body comes to your bank with 
a dividend check, pay him ten dollars — nine dollars and a half in 
bills, and half a dollar in specie. Do it without asking or answer- 
ing any questions.” 

Having said this, William proceeded, with Paul’s help, to cut 
the piece of yellow paper into ten slips, and upon each slip he 
wrote the word TEN. 

“ There !” said William, “ now we are all ready. I’ll distribute 
the checks as soon as the company come.” 

The company began to come very soon, and by a quarter be- 
fore seven they were all assembled. They were very much inter- 
ested in looking at the table, and at the preparations which had 


128 


THE AUCTION. 


The children seat themselves and prepare for the auction. 


been made upon it. They all flocked around it as fast as they 
came in, and made a great deal of confusion. They would have 
made much more confusion if William had not called out to 
them, 

“ Now, boys and girls, there are just two things that you must 
not do, or else you’ll spoil the play. You must not touch any 
thing on the table, and you must not ask any questions. Look, 
listen, and talk as much as you please, but don’t touch or ask 
questions.” 

The place which William had reserved for himself as auction- 
eer was at the head of the table. Frederick, who was to act as 
clerk, and was to deliver the goods as they were sold and take the 
money, sat at the corner of the table by his side. The bank was 
at the farther end of the table, and Paul’s seat was at the corner 
near it. 

Paul did not leave his seat to receive his visitors when they 
came in, but he welcomed them all when they entered, and invited 
them to take seats around the table. They, however, were some- 
what at a loss how to choose their seats. Indeed, it was a part 
of William’s plan, in establishing the auctioneer’s place at one end 
of the table and the bank at the other, to divide the interest, and 
make all the seats as nearly as possible equally good. The plan 
succeeded perfectly -well. Some of the children wished to be near 
the bank ; others preferred to be near the auctioneer ; while oth- 
ers still thought that the middle of the table, half way between 
the two, where they could see both, was the best place. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said William, when at last the 


THE AUCTION. 


129 


William tells the children how to draw money from the bank. 


children had all chosen their places, “you’ll please all to keep si- 
lence and attend to business. Mr. Paul is president of the bank, 
and the bank has declared a dividend of ten dollars per share. 
You must all go to Mr. Paul, and he will give you the dividend 
checks. They are on yellow paper.” 

William had previously given the yellow slips, with the word 
TEN written on them, to Paul. 

“ The president of the bank,” continued William, “ will be very 
careful to give only one check to each person.” 

The children all left their seats, and began to crowd around 
Paul, and to hold out their hands. 

“ People don’t crowd and push at a bank,” said William. 
“ They stand one behind another, and so come up in turn. In 
France they call it making a tail. So don’t crowd, ladies and 
gentlemen, but make a tail! make a tail!” 

The children obeyed this order very willingly, and taking sta- 
tions, each one behind his predecessor, they advanced regularly, 
and Paul gave each one his check. 

“As fast as you get your checks, ladies and gentlemen,” said 
William, “you will go to the cashier, and he will cash them for 
you. He will give you nine dollars and a half in bills, and fifty 
cents in specie. See to it carefully that you get all your money. 
No mistakes rectified afterward. And see to it, too, that you keep 
all your money. Beware of pickpockets.” 

William said all this in a very prompt, business-like, and au- 
thoritative manner. The older children laughed. The younger 
ones took it all very seriously. All, however, after receiving their 
36 I 


130 


THE AUCTION. 


Paper distributed. Sale commences. Stuart’s candy. 

checks, went to the cashier, and there “ made a tail,” as William 
called it, and advanced in regular order to get their money. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said William, “as fast as you 
get through your business at the bank, take your seats at the ta- 
ble again, and we will commence the sale.” 

While waiting for this to be done, William sent one of the chil- 
dren out to Mrs. Bronx to get a pair of sugar-tongs and a large 
spoon. He also folded a newspaper up small, and then cut it 
with his penknife at the foldings so as to make a large numbei 
of pieces, each about eight inches square. These he distributed 
about the table, asking each child to take one. 

“ What are they for?” asked one of the children. 

“ Ah ! there’s a question,” said William, in a tone of mock vex- 
ation. “After this, ten cents fine for every question. 

“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” continued William, “if you are 
all ready, we will commence the sale. 

“I have got here a fine invoice of goods that must be sold. 
They belong to a person about leaving this part of the country, 
and they must be sold.” 

As he said this, William drew toward him a basket, and, open- 
ing a paper in it, he displayed a quantity of candy of different 
kinds, in large sticks. 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen,” said he, “ the first article I have 
to offer is some of Stuart’s candy. You all know Stuart’s candy, 
ladies and gentlemen. Here are three sticks of cream candy to 
begin with. The one that will give the most for them will have 
them.” 


THE AUCTION. 


131 


The biddings. Gone, to Mary Small. 


Eagerness of the children. 


While saying this, William had taken out three sticks of candy 
with the sugar-tongs, and placed them in the little plate before 
him. 

The children looked at the candy with very eager eyes, and all 
began to bid together. Some said two cents, some five cents, and 
some of the youngest ones said ten dollars. 

“Bid away, ladies and gentlemen,” said William, speaking loud 
and rapidly. “ The more you bid the better I shall be pleased, 
because, of course, I want to get all your money away from you. 
You have got ten dollars apiece. As soon as that money is gone 
you can’t bid any more. Look about here, and see how many 
goods there are to be sold, and then you can tell how long you 
will want your money to hold out.” 

Here the child that had bid ten dollars said ten cents instead. 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen,” continued William, “ what am I 
offered for this candy ? Ten cents is bid. Who’ll give twenty ?” 

“ Eleven,” said several of the children at once. 

“ Can’t take any less bid than ten cents at a time,” said Will- 
iam, “because we have not any smaller money than ten cents. 
Twenty is bid,” he added, speaking now very rapidly indeed. 
“ Twenty — twenty — twenty ! I’m offered twenty ! All done at 
twenty? Bid up high, ladies and gentlemen, unless you want 
your money to hold out. You see how many things there are to 
seU. All done at twenty ? Gone, to Mary Small, for twenty 
cents. Send up your money, Mary, to my clerk.” 

The children were so eager, and they were all bidding together 
in so clamorous a manner, that it was not easy to tell who reaUy 


132 


THE AUCTION. 


More candy offered. 


Gone, to Lucy Ormond. 


Various bids. 


was the highest bidder, but William did not lose any time on that 
account. He knocked down the candy to one of the smallest 
girls, and immediately took out three sticks more. He then went 
on talking in an astonishingly rapid manner as follows : 

“ Now, ladies and gentlemen, here are three sticks more. How 
much will you give ? Ten, I’m offered ! Ten, I’m offered ! Give 
as much as you can, for I want to get all your money away as 
quick as possible, and I suppose you don’t care much about mak- 
ing it hold out. Twenty — twenty — twenty !” 

While William was saying this, all the children were bidding 
together, and in a few minutes he knocked off the second lot to 
another of the children. 

“And now,” said he, “who’ll take three sticks more at the 
same price? Gone, to Lucy Ormond. Pass your money up, 
ladies and gentlemen, as fast as you buy. You pay in specie as 
long as your specie lasts, and then my clerk will have a stock of 
change to change the bills. 

“Now here are three sticks more, ladies and gentlemen. You 
put your candy, when you buy it, in the papers I’ve sent you. 
Gone, to Paul, for twenty cents.” 

Here William took up a large spoonful of lozenges, sugar-al- 
monds, and such things, from another paper, and soon knocked 
the lot off for ten cents. He had all sorts of bids for it, from ten 
cents to three dollars ; for the children, not having had much ex- 
perience in buying at auction, bid at first very much at random. 
William, however, exercised some discretion in taking their bids, 
for he knew very well that if he were to take too large a portion 


THE AUCTION. 


133 


Candies offered in lots. 


Other goods for sale. 


Three pipes. 


of any of the younger children’s money for one single article or 
lot, they would see very soon that they had made a foolish bar- 
gain, and would feel unhappy about it. 

Accordingly, from among the numerous bids that the children 
were all the time offering in a clamorous manner, he selected those 
that were about right, and knocked off the lots of candy and sugar- 
plums very fast, and in such a manner as to distribute them pret- 
ty equally to all the company. All the time that he was selling 
he continued talking in the most rapid manner as follows : 

“ Now here is one more lot, ladies and gentlemen. Who’ll take 
it ? Ten cents is bid ! Ten cents ! You’d better buy this candy 
now, ladies and gentlemen, while it is going, and then you can 
have a supply to eat all the rest of the sale. Gone, to Susan, for 
ten cents. One more lot, ladies and gentlemen, and the last ; 
gone, to Maria. Now one more lot left. The candy is excellent, 
ladies and gentlemen. It is not only sweet to taste, but it fills 
your mouths up, and diminishes the danger of your asking ques- 
tions. Gone, to Charles Ormond, for twenty cents. Be sure and 
pass your money up, gentlemen, when you buy.” 

By the time that a sufficient quantity of the candy and sugar- 
plums had been sold to supply all the company, William con- 
cluded that the children had so far learned the nature of selling 
by auction that he could venture to go a little more strictly ac- 
cording to rule ; so he told them that he had next a large assort- 
ment of picture-books and toys to offer, and that now he should 
sell to the highest bidder. First he took out three pipes and laid 
them on the table. 


134 


THE AUCTION. 


Great competition in purchasing the pipes. 

“Here are three pipes” said he, “for blowing soap-bubbles. 
What shall I have apiece for them ? You’ll get a great deal of 
fun out of them — that is, provided you don’t break them carrying 
them home. Ten cents for one of them ! Ten cents ! Twenty 
cents ! Thirty cents ! Beautiful pipe ! See what a long stem ! 
You can break off a part of this stem, and use it to drink with by 
sucking the water up through it. Thirty cents ! Forty cents ! 
All done at forty cents ? Going — going ! Remember, a pipe will 
last longer than candy — that is, if you don’t break it. All done 
at forty cents ? Gone, to Charles Ormond, for forty cents.” 

“But I have not got forty cents left,” said Charles. “I paid 
two of my lozenges for candy, and I have not got but three left, 
and that makes only thirty cents.” 

“Pass up your fifty-cent bill,” said William, “and the clerk 
will give you ten cents in change. And now, gentlemen and 
ladies, how much for the second pipe ? Twenty cents ! All done 
at twenty cents ? Gone, to Joseph, for twenty cents.” 

The third pipe, being the last, excited a great competition, and 
was run up to two dollars and then sold. 

“Hoh!” said Charles Ormond, “I only gave forty cents for 
mine.” 

“ Yes,” replied William ; “ you made a good bargain. If you 
wish to sell it, I can put it up again, and you may perhaps make 
a profit.” 

“ I will,” said Charles. “ Here it is ; put it it up again.” 

So William put up the pipe again, and it was sold for a dollar. 
The boy who bought it gave Charles his dollar bill in payment. 


THE AUCTION. 


135 


Charles’s delight in making money. An anchor and cannon offered for sale. 

Charles was for a moment quite amazed to find that he had 
made money by his operation. As soon as he had calculated how 
much it was, he exclaimed, “I have made sixty cents,” and he left 
his seat and went capering around the room with delight. 

The children all immediately determined that they would watch 
for an opportunity to buy something cheap, and then sell it again 
afterward at a profit. 

After the pipes came various other articles, which William had 
bought at a toy-shop in New York for the auction. There were 
little trumpets, and whips, and small dolls. There were several 
small paper boxes filled with sugar-plums. Among other things, 
there was a brass anchor, and a very small brass cannon. Both 
were intended for a ship. The cannon was about an inch long, 
but it had a real bore, and a touch-hole, and was, as William said, 
“ warranted to fire.” 

“You may take one or both,” said William. “How much 
apiece, for one or both? Forty cents! Fifty cents! A dollar 
is bid ! One or both ! If you bid a dollar, you can have either 
of them for a dollar, or both of them for two dollars. A dollar 
and ten cents is bid ! A dollar and twenty ! Twenty — twenty 
— twenty, thirty — thirty, forty — forty ! I shall sell them to the 
highest bidder. Fifty — fifty ! A dollar and fifty cents apiece is 
bid ! That makes three dollars for the two, if you decide to take 
them both ; but you are not obliged to take them both. You 
may take either or both, just as you please. Sixty — sixty, sev- 
enty — seventy, eighty — eighty — eighty! All done at eighty? 
Just look at this elegant anchor, gentlemen ; large enough for a 


136 


THE AUCTION. 


Going — going — gone, to Frederick, the clerk 1 


vessel six inches long, or a foot long. If any of you have got a 
vessel, and no anchor, now is your chance. Ninety — ninety — 
ninety ! Two dollars is bid, gentlemen ! Or, if you ever expect 
to have such a vessel, or know of any body that you can get to 
make you one. Two dollars and ten cents ! Two and twenty ! 
Two and thirty! Thirty — thirty — thirty! And if you take the 
cannon too, you will mount it on a little carriage, and set it on 
the main deck, amidships. Two, forty — forty — forty! Takes 
very little powder, gentlemen, to fire this cannon. Great econo- 
my of ammunition. Two, fifty! Two, fifty! Going — going! 
Will nobody give any more ?” 

Thus he went on for some time longer. Every fresh statement 
that he made, praising the cannon and the anchor, brought out 
fresh bids, and at last they both were knocked off to Frederick, 
the clerk, at three dollars apiece. He paid himself for them by 
taking the five-dollar bill and the one-dollar bill from his private 
stock of money, and putting them with that which he held as clerk. 

Thus the sale went on. The children were in a state of the 
highest excitement all the time, and sometimes the noise and con- 
fusion produced by the bidding, and by the outcries and peals of 
laughter that arose from every part of the table, was so great that 
an auctioneer less experienced and skillful than William was 
might have been unable to proceed. 

. Paul was very much interested in all that was going on, though 
he took a, much less active part in the proceedings than the others. 
He sat most of the time very quiet, in his high chair, surveying 
the scene with an expression of calm enjoyment on his counte- 


AUCTION PARTY 












138 


THE AUCTION. 


The clerk gives specie in change for small bills. 


nance, and sometimes, when he felt tired, resting his cheek upon 
his hand. 

The cashier of the hank had nothing to do, after paying out the 
dividends, until the close of the sale, but the clerk who received 
the money for the purchases was kept extremely busy all the time 
in making change. 

The children paid in specie as long as the specie lasted, and 
then they paid in small bills, Frederick giving them back the spe- 
cie in change. When the small bills were used, of course they 
paid in the larger ones, taking back the smaller ones and the spe- 
cie in change. Thus the business went on in a very systematic 
and regular manner. 

Frederick, however, had so much to do to make change, on ac- 
count of the rapidity with which William knocked off the goods, 
that undoubtedly he made a great many mistakes. This, how- 
ever, was not of much consequence, so long as he tried to be per- 
fectly fair, and made out the change as correctly as he could. 

At last all the great bills were paid in, and nothing was left in 
the hands of the company but small bills and change. Then it 
often happened that, when an article was offered for sale, some of 
the children would set their hearts upon it, and would wish very 
much to buy it, but it would run up to a price higher than the 
amount of money they had left. Then they would count over 
their money and say, 

“ Oh dear me ! that’s more money than I have got.” 

Sometimes a boy would bid just the amount that he had left, 
and the article would be knocked off to him. Of course, in that 


THE AUCTION. 


139 


The ball of twine. Eating the money. Bills redeemed for lozenges. 

case, when he had paid, his money was all gone. He would then 
get up and go away from the table, carrying his purchases with 
him, to talk about them with those who had gone away in the 
same manner before. 

Of course, those that remained at the table gradually paid in all 
their large bills, so that at length they had nothing but small bills 
and lozenges. Finally, William produced a ball of twine from 
his pocket, which he said might be used for kite-twine or fishing- 
lines, just as the purchaser pleased. The children that remained 
at the table were all very eager to buy this twine, and each one 
bid on as long as the money which he had left would allow, and 
then, of course, one after another gave up. It was finally knock- 
ed off to the one who had the most money. 

William then told them that the sale was over, and that all 
those who had any money left over might eat it up. Some of 
them, however, had bills, and they said that they could not eat 
them up. 

“ Oh,” replied William, “ the bills will be redeemed at the 
bank.” 

So saying, he directed the clerk to count the lozenges that he 
had taken, and to pay them into the bank ; and, when this was 
done, the boys and girls that had bills left took them to the bank, 
and Jeremiah gave them specie for them. The children then all 
went away from the table, carrying their purchases under their 
arms, and eating the lozenges that they had left over. 

This game of auction was one of William’s best contrivances. 
Nor was it a costly entertainment. I don’t think that all the ar- 


140 


THE AUCTION. 


Cost of the auction. Paul’s cannon. Spiking the touch-hole. 

tides that he bought for the auction could have cost more than half 
a dollar. 

The day after the auction Paul asked his mother if she would 
let him take his cannon. 

“You don’t wish to fire it, I hope,” said his mother. 

“ No, mother,” replied Paul, “ I don’t wish to fire it. Besides, 
you have got the powder.” 

So his mother brought the cannon, and Paul earned it out into 
the back yard, where Phelim was at work. 

“Phelim,” said Paul, “do you think you can find me a small 
brass tack with a smooth round head ?” 

“ Yes, Master Paul,” replied Phelim, “ I think it likely I can.” 

So Phelim went with Paul into a little shop, and opening a 
drawer there, he looked over what it contained, and presently found 
the brass tack. Then Paul asked for a hammer. 

Phelim gave him a hammer, and Paul then proceeded to insert 
the tack into the touch-hole of his cannon, and to drive it home. 
He then said, “ There 1” in a tone of satisfaction, and went back 
into the house with his cannon in his hand. 

He brought the cannon up to his mother, and pointing to the 
head of the tack, which could just be seen at the touch-hole, he 
said, 

“ See, mother !” 

“ What ?” asked his mother. 

“ Spiked!” said Paul. “Now you need not be afraid of this 
cannon being fired any more.” 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


141 


William invites Paul to visit New York. 


CHAPTER XYI. 

VISIT TO NEW YORK. 

Paul’s cousin William, on the morning of the day when he re- 
turned to New York, left Mr. Bronx’s .house before Paul was up. 
Paul had got pretty tired the evening before with the excitement 
of the auction, and so he did not wake the next morning quite so 
early as usual. 

William, however, before going away, went into Paul’s room to 
bid him good-by. He found that Paul was awake. 

“ Paul,” said he, “ I have come to bid you good-by.” 

“ Are you going so early ?” asked Paul. 

“Yes,” said William, “it is time for me to go. And now I 
want you to come down to New York pretty soon, and come and 
see me. I want to show you our new store.” 

“ Oh no, Cousin William,” said Paul, “lam not well enough 
to go to New York.” 

“Yes,” said William, “you can come as well as not.” 

“But I am sure my mother will not be willing,” said Paul. 

“Yes she will,” said William ; “ she will be perfectly willing, 
if you manage it right. I’ll tell you how to manage the thing.’ 

“But I don’t like managing things very well,” said Paul. 

“ Ah ! but there is no objection to the kind of managing that I 
am going to propose to you,” said William. “I’ll tell you what 
to do. The first person to ask is the doctor.” 


142 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


Paul gains the doctor’s consent to make the visit. 

“ The doctor ?” repeated Paul. 

“ Yes,” replied William ; “you must not say a word about it 
to your father or mother till after you have asked the doctor. 
Some afternoon, when you have felt pretty well during the day, 
ask the doctor if it would do you any harm to be taken down on 
board the steamer and go to- New York quietly ; and if he says it 
would not, then ask him to tell your mother so. After that the 
thing will go of itself.” 

This idea pleased Paul very much, and he resolved to follow 
the instructions which William had given him. So one afternoon, 
when he felt pretty well, he asked the doctor whether lie thought 
it would do him any harm to be taken down to the steamer, and 
go to New York quietly. 

“Do you feel as if you would like to go?” asked the doctor. 

“Yes, sir, very much,” replied Paul. 

“Why do you wish to go to New York?” asked the doctor. 

“In the first place,” answered Paul, “I should like the sail 
down the river ; and then, besides, William is going to show me 
their new store.” 

“ Yery well,” said the doctor ; “ those are capital good reasons. 
I did not know that you had such good reasons. And if you feel 
as if you would like to go, I don’t think it would hurt you at all. 
It would do you good.” 

“ And will you be kind enough to say so to my mother ?” ask- 
ed Paul. 

The doctor replied that he would ; and going out to find Mrs. 
Bronx, he told her that Paul had taken a notion to go to New 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


143 


Paul starts on the excursion to New York. 


York, and that he thought it would do him good to go, provided 
he went quietly, and did not make too much exertion. 

Mrs. Bronx was at first quite surprised at this proposal, but, 
since the doctor thought that the excursion would not do Paul 
any harm, she was quite pleased with the idea, and at once gave 
her consent. 

“ I will speak to his father about it this evening, as soon as he 
comes home,” said she. 

Accordingly, the plan was proposed to Captain Bronx, and he, 
instead of making any objection, seemed to be greatly pleased 
with it. 

“ Dear little fellow !” said he, “I wish he could go to New York 
with me every day.” 

So it was decided that Paul should go with his father the next 
morning. Mrs. Bronx proposed to send for a carriage to take him 
to the boat, but Paul said that if she was willing he would prefer 
to go in the locomotive. 

“ All right !” said the captain. “We will let him go whichever 
way he likes best.” 

Accordingly, Paul mounted into his locomotive after breakfast 
in the morning, and Phelim pushed him away from the door about 
fifteen minutes before it was time for his father to set out. He 
knew that he would necessarily go more slowly in the locomotive 
than his father in the carriage. As it was, his father reached the 
steam-boat first. The carriage passed the locomotive on the way, 
so that Captain Bronx was ready at the plank when Paul ar- 
rived. 


144 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


Joe, the sailor, puts Paul and Phelim on board the boat. 

There was a sailor standing by the side of the captain near the 
plank. His name was Joe. 

“How, Joe,” said the captain, “take that boy up, and bring 
him on board, and carry him to my state-room. Then Phelim 
can go back with the go-cart.” 

“ Oh, father,” said Paul, “ that’s my locomotive. You must 
not call it a go-cart.” 

“Very well,” replied the captain; “we will call it whatever 
you please.” 

“And besides, father,” added Paul, “ if you are willing, I should 
like to have Phelim go with me — and the locomotive.” 

“But can your mother spare Phelim all day, do you think?” 
asked the captain. 

“Yes, father,” said Paul, “ I asked her, and she said she could 
spare him just as well as not.” 

“ All right, then,” said the captain. “ Bring them all on board, 
Joe.” 

So Joe took Paul up in his arms, and carried him across the 
plank on board the steamer, and then went with him to the cap- 
tain’s state-room, which was on the deck adjoining the office. 
There he laid him down upon a sofa. He then went back and 
helped Phelim bring the locomotive on board. 

“And now, father,” said Paul, “ I should like to go out on the 
deck somewhere, if Joe could only find me a good place. If he 
will find me a place and move me there, then I will be quiet, and 
shall not have to trouble you any more all the voyage.” 

“Very well,” said the captain ; “ I will arrange that for you.” 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


145 


The captain’s directions about a place for Paul. The tent. 

So the captain went out with Joe, and selected a place on the 
promenade deck, well forward, where there was a pleasant air and 
a good view. 

“ This will he a good place,” said the captain. “ He will like 
a good look-out. I want you to rig up a small awning over this 
place, and then direct one of the stewards to put a cot, with a mat- 
tress upon it, under the awning. Tell him to raise the cot up pret- 
ty well, and incline it forward, so that the little fellow can see a 
good way over the water ahead of the ship while he is lying down. 
He will be more contented, then, to lie down and keep still. 
When you have got every thing ready, come back to my state- 
room and bring the boy out.” 

Joe made all these preparations as the captain had directed, and 
when every thing was ready, he went back to the state-room, and, 
taking Paul up in his arms, carried him out to the cot. Phelim 
followed. 

“Why, what a pretty place !” said Paul, as soon as he saw the 
awning and the cot. “It is a little tent, with a bed in it.” 

Joe laid him down upon the cot, and he was very much pleased 
to find how well he could see. 

In the mean time there had been a great bustle in all parts of 
the steamer, occasioned by the passengers and the baggage com- 
ing on board ; and by the time that Paul was fairly established 
in his tent, as he called it, the steamer was ready to leave the pier. 
Paul saw his father walking to and fro upon the deck, giving his 
orders. Sometimes he gave them with his voice, and sometimes 
he pulled certain little bell-handles which communicated with bells 
3* K 


146 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


The pilot’s bells. Starting off. Visitors. Disembarking. 

below, near the engine, and made known to the engineer what the 
captain wished him to do. 

One of these bells meant “ Start the engine;” another, “Full 
speed another, “ Stop her another, “ Back her.” In conse- 
quence of the orders which the captain gave, the steamer gradual- 
ly moved away from the wharf, and after wheeling majestically 
round in a great sweep, began to move swiftly down the river. 
As she came round, there was a succession of beautiful views of 
the river and of its banks that passed before Paul’s eyes, as he 
lay in his tent, like a moving panorama. 

“Now, Phelim,” said Paul, “you may go and come about the 
boat wherever you please, but every now and then come here to 
see if I want any thing.” 

So Phelim went away. Paul was, however, by no means left 
alone. His father came to see him several times, as did also a 
number of the passengers. Some of the passengers knew him, 
and, coming up to his tent, they accosted him, and talked with him 
as an old acquaintance. Others of the passengers, who had never 
seen Paul before, were so pleased with the contented and happy 
expression of his countenance, that they were attracted to his bed- 
side too, and there, as soon as they began to talk to him, they 
were attracted more than ever. 

Paul had a delightful sail down the river. He arrived at New 
York about eleven o’clock. He remained quietly in his tent, 
watching the busy scene upon the pier, and looking at the boats 
and vessels on the river, until the passengers and the baggage had 
all been landed. His father then came to him and said, 


VISIT TO NEW YOEK. 


147 


** Paul goes ashore, and goes into the city in his locomotive. 

“ Now, Paul, if you wish to go and see your cousin William, 
I will get a carriage for you.” 

“ But, father,” said Paul, “ could not I go in my locomotive ?” 

“ Why — yes,” said Captain Bronx, speaking, h6wever, rather 
doubtfully, “ I suppose you could go well enough in your loco- 
motive by keeping on the sidewalks — all except crossing Broad- 
way ; I am afraid that it would not be safe for you to attempt to 
cross Broadway.” 

“Why, father,” said Paul, “they would not run over a loco- 
motive with a poor sick boy in it!” 

“ No,” replied the captain, “ you are right. I don’t believe 
they would. Besides, Phelim can get a policeman to help you.” 

The lower part of Broadway in New York is usually so throng- 
ed with carts, omnibuses, and carriages, that it is difficult, and 
sometimes dangerous, for foot-passengers to cross it. There are, 
however, a number of policemen stationed there, at different points, 
whose duty it is to direct the drivers how to go in case of a jam, 
and also to aid ladies and others in getting across. 

It was arranged at last that Paul should go in his locomotive, 
and that, on reaching Broadway, Phelim was to wait until he could 
find a policeman to help them to cross. In this way Paul reach- 
ed his cousin William’s store in safety. 

He enjoyed his visit there very much indeed. The new store 
was very large and very elegant, and as it happened, there was an 
auction sale going on in one of the rooms while Paul was there. 
Paul was, however, somewhat disappointed in the auction. He 
was entertained in hearing the auctioneer call out the bids, but, 


148 


VISIT TO NEW YORK. 


The real auction. Dinner and a nap. Returning up#he river. 

as it was nothing but a cargo of tea which they were selling, and 
as they had nothing but samples of the tea on the table, Paul 
thought the sale not half so amusing as the one which William 
had held at his mother’s. 

Paul returned to the steamer in about half an hour. 

“And now,” said his father, as soon as he arrived, “Phelim 
will help you down into the cabin, and the steward will give you 
some dinner. Then, after that, choose yourself a good berth, and 
lie down in it and go to sleep. That is what your mother said 
you must do.” 

So Paul ate his dinner, and then lay down in a berth and went 
to sleep. He was very much rested and refreshed by his sleep, 
and was prepared by it to enjoy very highly his passage up the 
river in the evening. 

He woke up about an hour before it was time for the steamer 
to set out. As soon as he awoke he looked out of his berth, and 
seeing one of the stewards going to and fro in the cabin, he asked 
him to go and call Phelim. 

When Phelim came he helped Paul to get up, and then asked 
him whether he would like to go to his tent again. 

“Ho,” said Paul, “not just yet — not till we get started. I 
should like now to get a good seat, if I can, on the deck, and watch 
the passengers coming on board.” 

So Phelim helped Paul to go up on the deck, and brought him 
a good seat, and there Paul sat for an hour watching the passen- 
gers and the loads of luggage as they came on board. After that 
he went back to his tent, and had a delightful voyage up the river. 


CONCLUSION. 


149 


Paul consults with Phelim about going a raspberrying. 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

The summer gradually passed away and the autumn came on 
without any great change manifesting itself in little Paul’s condi- 
tion. He enjoyed his locomotive more and more, and he made 
sometimes quite long excursions in it. It trundled so easily that 
Phelim liked to push Paul about in it, and the farther Paul wish- 
ed to go the better Phelim was pleased. 

One morning in September Paul took it into his head to go a 
raspberrying. There was a place where raspberries grew wild on 
a hill-side near a piece of woods about two miles from the house. 

“Phelim,” said Paul, on the evening before, when he first con- 
ceived of this idea, “ do you think you could push me two miles ?” 

“Yes, Master Paul,” replied Phelim, “two miles or ten miles, 
provided you give me time enough.” 

“And how much time would you wish for to push me two 
miles ?” asked Paul. 

“Why, I think,” said Phelim, after pausing a moment as if to 
make a calculation, “ that I should like about an hour for two 
miles.” 

“•An hour to go and an hour to come, you mean,” said Paul. 

“Exactly,” responded Phelim. 

“ And an hour more to gather the raspberries,” said Paul ; 
“ that makes three hours. We should be gone only three hours. 


150 


CONCLUSION. 


He proposes the plan to his mother. She approves of it. 

I think my mother will be willing that I should be gone as long 
as that.” 

Paul proposed his scheme to his mother, and she approved of 
it ; though she recommended, as a modification of the plan, that 
they should take a chaise. 

“ Phelim can get a chaise in town,” said Mrs. Bronx, “ and 
drive you there, if you would like that better. You can go in a 
chaise in half the time.” 

“ Ah ! but I don’t want to go in half the time,” replied Paul. 
“I like to be a good while on the road.” 

So the excursion was decided upon as Paul had first planned 
it, and the next morning, shortly after breakfast, the locomotive 
was at the door. Paul put two baskets into his box, one for him- 
self and one for Phelim. He also took a tin mug, of the kind 
commonly called a dijpjper . 

“You see,” said he, “I may possibly find a brook or spring 
somewhere about there, and if I do I shall want a drink. 

“Besides,” he added, in explaining his plans to his mother, “ I 
can carry the dipper more easily about among the bushes, and 
gather the raspberries at first in that ; then, when the dipper gets 
full, I can go and empty it into the basket.” 

Mrs. Bronx decidedly approved of this arrangement, and about 
nine o’clock Paul set off. His mother put on her bonnet and went 
with him a little way. She went as far as a large oak tree which 
grew by the side of the road. At the oak tree she bade Paul 
good-by, wished him a pleasant excursion, and set out on her re- 
turn home. 


CONCLUSION. 


151 


Paul returns. 


He takes a bowl of raspberries and milk. 


Paul and Phelim came back about one o’clock. They had been 
gone nearly an hour longer than Paul had calculated. Paul had 
been quite successful in gathering the raspberries. His basket 
was more than half full, and Phelim’s was quite full. 

“ I only ate a very few raspberries while I was gathering them,” 
said Paul, “because I thought I would rather have you give me 
some when I got Jiome in a bowl of milk.” 

“Ah! yes,” replied his mother, “that will be the very thing.” 

Bo Mrs. Bronx sent Rose to get some milk. She directed her 
to put an extra quantity of cream in it. Rose brought the milk 
in a silver bowl which Paul’s father had given him. Paul sat 
down by the step of the door to eat his raspberries and milk, but, 
after remaining there a few minutes, he rose and went into the 
kitchen, and sat down by the fire. 

“Ah! Master Paul,” said Rose, “ I am very glad that you 
have come to keep me company while you are eating your rasp- 
berries.” 

After Paul had finished eating his raspberries and milk, he told 
his mother that he was tired, and that he would like to lie down 
a little while. So his mother took him in her arms, and carried 
him into his little bed-room, and laid him down upon the bed. 
She took off his shoes and stockings, loosened his dress, and then 
spread the counterpane over him. 

“Is that comfortable for you?” she asked. 

“ Yes, mother, pretty comfortable,” replied Paul ; “ only, if you 
would be kind enough to put one of your shawls over me, I should 
not be quite so cold.” 


152 


CONCLUSION. 


He goes to sleep. His mother brings him his dinner when he wakes up. 

“ Why, my poor boy,” exclaimed his mother, “ do you feel 
cold ?” 

So saying, Mrs. Bronx went to a bureau, and took from the 
drawer of it a good warm and soft blanket, which she spread over 
Paul, drawing it up well about his shoulders. Paul liked the 
blanket very much. He said it was very comfortable indeed. 
His mother then left him and he went to sleep. 

He awoke, as usual, in about two hours. As soon as he was 
awake he rang a little bell that always stood on the table within 
his reach, which was a signal for his mother or Bose to come. 
His mother heard the bell and came. She took Paul up, put on 
his shoes and stockings, readjusted his dress, and then set him 
down upon the floor. 

It was a warm and pleasant afternoon, and Paul went to the 
door-step and sat down in the sun. Here his mother brought him 
his dinner. She brought his little table first, and then brought 
the dinner and put it upon the table, close by the place where Paul 
was sitting. Then, after talking with him a few minutes, she 
went away. 

In about ten minutes after that, Mrs. Bronx, happening to pass 
by the place again, found, to her surprise, that Paul had gone away. 
She looked upon the table, too, and observed that very little of the 
dinner had been eaten. She immediately called to Bose. Bose 
answered from the kitchen. 

“ Where’s Paul ?” asked Mrs. Bronx. 

“ He is here, Mrs. Bronx,” said Bose. 

Mrs. Bronx immediately went into the kitchen, and there found 


CONCLUSION. 


153 


Paul taken sick. His symptoms. He goes to bed. 

Paul sitting by the fire. He was hovering close over it, as if he 
felt quite cold. 

“Why, Paul,” exclaimed Mrs. Bronx, “what is the matter?” 

“ There’s nothing the matter, mother,” replied Paul, “ only that 
I felt a little cold, and I thought I would come here and warm me 
a minute. I am going back again pretty soon.” 

Mrs. Bronx advanced to the place where Paul was sitting, and 
looked at him in a very earnest manner. She observed that his 
lips were pale, and that his hands looked cold and blue. 

“ Why, my dear boy,” said Mrs. Bronx, “ don’t you feel well ?” 

“Oh yes, mother,” said Paul, “I feel well, only I am a little 
cold, and my back aches a little. 

Mrs. Bronx observed, as Paul said this, that his voice quivered, 
as if he was almost shivering with the cold. She immediately 
brought up a rocking-chair, and, taking Paul in her arms, she drew 
him up close to her, and began rocking him to and fro. Paul did 
not speak, and Mrs. Bronx soon began to be convinced that he 
was quite unwell. 

“Would you like to be undressed and go to bed?” asked his 
mother. 

“ Yes, mother,” said Paul, “ I think I should. I think I should ? 
be warmer in bed, if you could be so kind as to put a good many 
clothes on me.” 

Mrs. Bronx immediately undressed Paul and put him to bed. 
At the same time she sent Phelim for the doctor. The doctor 
came very soon. After seeing Paul and writing some prescrip- 
tions for him, he said that he was threatened with a fever, but he 


154 


CONCLUSION. 


The doctor’s visit. Paul becomes delirious. Taking medicine. 

was in hopes that he would not be very sick. He would come 
back again and see him, he said, in two or three hours. 

The doctor accordingly came back about five o’clock. When 
he saw Paul he looked quite serious, and Mrs. Bronx was very 
much alarmed. Paul had been asleep, but he was very restless 
in his sleep, and now, when he awoke, he gazed earnestly at the 
doctor and at his mother, and looked frightened. 

“ Paul,” said his mother, “it is mother. Don’t you know 
mother ?” 

Paul looked earnestly into his mother’s face for a minute, and 
then said, 

“ Oh, I thought it was — I thought it was — ” And then he 
seemed to be bewildered ; and, saying something unintelligible, he 
turned away, shut his eyes, and appeared to be going to sleep 
again. 

The doctor came again that evening, after Captain Bronx had 
come home, but he found Paul no better. Indeed, he was worse. 
He seemed to be out of his senses entirely. He did not appear 
to know his father or his mother, but he talked to himself a great 
deal, though what he said nobody could understand. It is a cu- 
rious circumstance, however, that when they brought him any med- 
icine to take, he would sit up at once in bed, take the cup, and 
drink it all without any hesitation. I suppose that this was ow- 
ing to the habit that he had formed when he was comparatively 
well. 

After leaving all the necessary directions the doctor went away, 
saying that he would come again very early in the morning. Paul 


CONCLUSION. 


155 


The sick boy grows worse. 


His Testament. 


passed a very restless night. He slept but little, and his sleep 
was disturbed by starts, and tossings to and fro. Sometimes he 
called to his mother, and when she stooped down over him and 
kissed him, and asked him what he wanted, he did not seem to 
know. Sometimes he lay moaning as if in pain. Whenever his 
mother asked him how he felt, he always said, if he answered at 
all, that he felt better, though he did not seem to know what he 
w T as saying. 

The next morning, when the doctor came to see his patient, he 
found him worse rather than better. Mr. and Mrs. Bronx saw 
this by the anxious expression of his countenance, though they 
forbore to ask him, and he refrained from telling them how he 
thought Paul was. The state of things continued much the same 
for several days, though during all this time Paul seemed to be 
gradually sinking. He lay in a state of unconsciousness most of 
the time, and, if he spoke at all, he only uttered incoherent words, 
conveying no meaning. 

One evening, his mother, thinking that if his mental faculties 
were in such a state as to enable him to recognize any thing, he 
might possibly know his Testament, brought the book to his bed- 
side, and attempted to call his attention to it. 

“ Paul,” said she, “ look at this. This is your little Testament. 
Would you like to have me read to you in it ?” 

Paul looked at the Testament, and something like a faint smile 
lighted up his countenance. He tried to say something. His 
mother thought it was “yes” that he tried to say, so she opened 
the Testament, and began to look for a place to read ; but, before 


156 


CONCLUSION. 


A prayer. The doctor comes again. "VVhat he says about Paul. 

she got ready to begin, Paul’s eyes were shut again, and he seem- 
ed to have gone to sleep. 

His mother, however, read the verses which she had found, and 
then, in a low and gentle voice, close to Paul’s ear, she read one of 
the prayers out of his Prayer-book. 

“Perhaps he will hear some of the words,” said she to herself, 
“ and will join in the prayer a little in his heart. If he does not, 
I am sure that God will hear it and accept it from his mother, 
just as if it was from him.” 

That night Paul slept more quietly, though he seemed weaker 
than ever, and very low. The doctor came pretty early in the 
morning. In examining his patient, he seemed to be more earnest 
and more deeply interested than ever. He did not give any new 
directions, but said that the room must be kept very still. When 
he went away, he said that he would come back again at ten 
o’clock. 

Captain Bronx, who for several days past had left his steam- 
boat under the command of his mate, and had remained at home, 
followed the doctor out as he went away, and walked with him 
across the yard toward the gate. He walked a few steps without 
speaking. He felt as if he could not speak. At length, however, 
when they were getting pretty near the gate, he said, in a mourn- 
ful tone, 

“Well, doctor, I suppose the case is drawing pretty near the 
end?” 

“ It may be so,” said the doctor, “ it may be so ; but I am 
not sure that it is so. This fever is something that I had not at 


CONCLUSION. 


157 


Paul’s fever reaches the crisis. 


all anticipated in Paul’s case. He is drawing near to the crisis of 
the fever, and which way it will turn we can not tell. We must 
wait patiently a few hours. I will be back again by ten o’clock.” 

So saying, he clasped the captain’s hand warmly, and bade him 
good-by. 

When the captain went back to the house Paul was asleep. 
His mother was sitting by the bedside, watching him, and fan- 
ning him gently from time to time whenever he moved. The cap- 
tain looked into the room. He exchanged a smile with his wife 
by way of salutation, but did not speak for fear of waking Paul. 
He then went out into the yard, and began walking up and down 
in a state of great anxiety and suspense. 

Presently Paul moved and opened his eyes. He looked into 
his mother’s face a moment and smiled, and then said, in a gentle 
voice, 

“Mother!” 

Mrs. Bronx felt her heart bounding within her bosom for joy at 
hearing Paul once more address her by this endearing name. 

“ What, my dear boy ?” said she ; “ what ?” 

“ Would you be kind enough to give me a little drink of wa- 
ter,” said Paul. 

Mrs. Bronx hastened to get the water, her eyes filling, at the 
same time, with tears of joy. Her heart was overflowing. She 
came back with the water and gave Paul the drink. After drink- 
ing, he looked up again into his mother’s face and smiled, and then 
laid his head down upon the pillow and shut his eyes again. 

His mother rose from her seat, stole softly to the window, and 


158 


CONCLUSION. 


The physician’s opinion of Paul’s case. Favorable indications. 

looked out. She saw Captain Bronx walking to and fro, and she 
beckoned to him to come. At first he was alarmed, thinking that 
Paul was worse ; but, seeing that his wife looked pleased, he felt 
reassured. As soon as he came near she communicated to him in 
a whisper the joyful news that Paul, in waking up, had recognized 
her, and had called her by name. 

“Dear little fellow!” said the captain. “Is he awake now?” 

“No,” said Mrs. Bronx, still whispering, “ he has gone to sleep 
again. I would not disturb him for the world.” 

A little before ten o’clock the doctor came. Paul awoke again 
while the doctor was there. He looked up into the doctor’s face 
and smiled, though he seemed to be too weak to speak. The doc- 
tor took his little hand and felt his pulse. After counting the 
beats for half a minute by his watch, he turned to Mrs. Bronx 
with an expression of satisfaction upon his countenance, which 
seemed to say, “ He will be saved.” 

After remaining some time longer, and giving the necessary di- 
rections, the doctor rose to go away. Captain Bronx again fol- 
lowed him as he went out of the yard. 

“Well, doctor, what do you think to-day?” asked the captain. 

“ I am almost afraid to say,” replied the doctor, “ lest I should 
awaken hopes in your mind too soon. But he really seems to 
have passed the crisis of his fever very favorably. I can judge 
better, however, to-morrow.” 

“But, after all,” said the captain, “I suppose that if he recov- 
ers from this fever it will only be a brief respite, for the old dis- 
ease will still be there to take its course.” 


CONCLUSION. 


159 


The invalid convalescent. 


Paul out on his pony. 


“ I am afraid it will be,” replied the doctor ; “ but it is not cer- 
tain. Such a fever as this sometimes produces such a radical 
change in the system that we can not predict at all what the final 
result may be. It is now not absolutely impossible that the dear 
little fellow may get entirely well. But we must wait patiently 
a few days. I do not dare to form any opinion at all just yet.” 

The doctor continued to visit Paul twice a day after this, and 
at every visit he became more and more encouraged. The fever 
seemed to have produced some mysterious and radical change in 
the whole system, by which the old malady was entirely broken 
up ; and the doctor saw that as Paul’s strength gradually return- 
ed, the symptoms which had been so alarming before did not re- 
appear. At length, in about six weeks after the crisis of the fe- 
ver, the doctor told Paul’s father and mother that he had great 
hopes of seeing their son entirely well. 

The last thing that I can tell you about Paul is, that one day, 
about three months after this, just as the doctor was leaving his 
office to go and visit his patients, he saw a boy coming up the 
street, riding fast on a pony. It was Paul. The pony was one 
which his father had bought for him, and which was kept in a 
little stable at the house. Mrs. Bronx had made an exception to 
her rule of not keeping horses in favor of this pony, in order that 
Paul might always have his pony at hand when he wished to take 
a ride. 

“Ah! Paul,” said the doctor, “is this you?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Paul; “I have come to get you to do some- 
thing for me.” 


160 


CONCLUSION. 


Paul’s request to the doctor. 


The locomotive. 


“Very well,” said the doctor; “I will do any thing for you 
that is in my power.” 

“I have been thinking,” said Paul, “that I shall probably not 
use my locomotive any more, and I want you to find some sick 
boy or girl among your patients that I can give it to.” 

4 4 Very well,” said the doctor ; 44 1 can do that very easily, I 
presume.” 

“And, if they have not got any body to push ’em,” added 
Paul, 44 tell them I will come as often as I can and push ’em my- 
self.” 

“Yery well,” said the doctor; “I will tell them.” 

So Paul bade the doctor good-by, and, wheeling his pony round, 
he galloped away. 


THE END. 


Harper s Story Boohs . — 


A most 'valuable addition to the juvenile library. Al- 
ays full of useful information, and enforcing the purest 
i oral principles, they are written in a singularly attract- 
• e style* and tend to cherish a taste for reading of an in- 
ructive character. Their interest is greatly enhanced 
y the admirable style in which they are issued. The ty- 
)graphy is of a very superior order, and the pictorial 
nbellishments are executed in the best style of modern 
ood-engraving. No family can receive these stories as 
ionthly visitants within their dwellings, and not gain a 
sw impulse to the love of beauty and goodness. — Courier 
rid. Enquirer . 

They are the best children’s books ever published. 
”hey wisely avoid the introduction or discussion of re- 
ligious topics, yet are such as Christian Parents may un- 
hesitatingly place in their children’s hands. The price is 
aarvelously low. Twenty-five cents a number makes it 
bout six pages of print and two excellent engravings for 
ach cent of the money. The engravings alone, without 
line of letter-press, would be cheap at the price. One 
; ood thing these Story Books will certainly accomplish; 
errceforth, inferior authorship and used up, worn out il- 
astrations can not be palmed off on children. They have 
amples here of what is best for them, and they are 
hrewd enough not to put up with any thing of lower 
uality. — N. Y. Daily Times. 

4 ‘ Harper’s Magazine” and “ Harper’s Story Books” will 
.ienceforth be welcomed as joint visitors in thousands of 
families where there are juvenile readers to be pleased as 
veil as adults — N. Y . Commercial Advertiser. 

Once introduced into the family circle, these books will 
ever be welcome visitants, eagerly looked for by our young 
riends. Every improvement in the typographic and xyl- 
•graphic arts is made to contribute to their embellishment. 
- Detroit Tree Press. 

Hq “ Harper’s Story Books” have won the hearts of chil- 
Iren all over the land. When once introduced into the 
amily, it is impossible to deny the importunity which de- 
nands the new “ Story Book” as soon as it is published. 
Vo juvenile books could be better adapted to awaken in- 
erest and impart instruction. — New Englander ( Congre - 
Rational Review ), Neio Haven. 

We can not too highly commend this series of Story 
Books for children. The Christian parent may safely 
rust Mr. Abbott as a guide to his little ones in the path 
>f goodness. — Southern Churchman. 

We have heard so many fathers and mothers who rec- 
ognize the pleasant duty of guiding the minds of their 
children in the paths of knowledge at home, speak in 
.errns of the highest commendation of this series of books 
r or children, that we feel a desire to see them universally 
read among children. They constitute the finest series 
of books for the young that we have seen. — Louisville 
Courier. 

As long as bright eyes love to read pleasant stories and 
ook at pretty pictures, such juveniles will be popular.— 
.* Church Review. 

We heartily commend it. For adaptation to the child’s 
nind, and easily-comprehended moral, Mr. Abbott deserves 
reat praise. — New York Albion. 


• Comments of the Press. 

' y * 1 

The most desirable juvenile books issued in the nation. 
Every juvenile reader will be glad to own them, and often 
want to reperuse them. — Christian Advocate and Jour- 
nal, June, 1856. 

Another of the charming series of Story Books which 
are becoming the household library of Young America, and 
even crossing the Atlantic, to delight thousands of juvenile 
readers in the British Islands. * * Who can deny his chil- 
dren such a fund of useful and agreeable instruction when 
it is within his reach for the sum of 25 cents?— N. Y. 
Daily News . 

Who is better qualified than Jacob Abbott to prepare 
such a work ? He always seems to have an intuitive 
perception of just what children want— just what will take 
with them, and so serve as the medium of conveying in- 
struction in the pleasantest form. We almost envy the 
relish with which our children read this series. Now for a 
suggestion to parents : instead of buying your boy some 
trumpery toy, give him a year's subscription to this charm- 
ing monthly. It will cost you three dollars , indeed ; but 
its excellent moral hints and influence, its useful and en- 
tertaining knowledge, are worth all that, and much more. 
If you think yGU can not afford it for one child, take it for 
your children's home circle , and let one read it aloud to the 
others. You'll never repent it. — Christian Inquirer. 

Of all our writers who have undertaken professedly 
the juvenile business in book-making, no one has equaled 
Jacob Abbott, in the opinion of many, if we regard both 
literary and moral excellence. With his editorial charge, 
and the inviting exterior furnished by the resources of the 
Harpers, the series must become generally popular. — 
Charleston Courier. 

Stories preferred by children to any others, because they 
contain no narratives of improbable events, but just what 
might have happened to any little boy or girl on any day 
in the year. If parents would place just such books as 
these in the hands of their children they would find less 
trouble in governing them. — Vicksburgh Whig. 

These Story Books, with their elegant engravings, can 
be no otherwise than very popular. Grandfathers as well 
as grandchildren will enjoy them. — Youths' Temperance 
Advocate. 

Marked not only by very sound views, but by a peculiar 
tact in adapting them to youthful comprehension.— Phil- 
adelphia Episcopal Recorder. 

These books have never been surpassed by any thing 
gotten up for the profit and pleasure of the little people. - 
Lutheran Observer. 

We have already commended this admirable enterprise 
to furnish periodical instruction and Entertainment lor 
the young. Jacob Abbott is confessedly the best and 
most successful writer for the young now living.— Evan- 
gelical Lutheran. 

The incidents are well selected, and put together with 
the author's well known power and skill. The series is 
evidently one that will be both acceptable and useful to 
the young. The paper, type, and wood-cuts are all that 
the most critical could desire. — Presbyterian Banner. 

Harper’s beautiful Story Books— a series got up in tbs 
most attractive style. — Protestant Churchman 


. • ~TT 


m JACQ£ ABBOTT. 

'M 


Each Number of Harper’s Story 
Books will contain 160 pages, in small 
quarto form, very beautifully illus- 
trated, and printed on superfine cal- 
endered paper. 

The Series may be obtained of Book- 
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masters, or from the Publishers, at 
Three Dollars a year, or Twenty- 
five Cents a Number. 

The two Periodicals, Harper’s New 
Monthly Magazine and Harper’s Sto- 
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Dollars a year, and will be published 
on the first day of each Month. 

The Postage upon Harper’s Story 
Books, which must be paid quarterly 
in advance, is- Two Cents. 




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EACII number complete in itself. 










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